The Princess Bride
by MissMadi
Summary: Mia is finally marrying Michael.  But what with her wedding being a televised state affair, she can't help half-dreading her special day.  And then, when she loses a special present from Michael, she feels that she still can't seem to do anything right.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: **So I just kind of decided to write this on a whim. In the last two weeks, I read all ten books of the Princess Diaries series (I'd already read the first seven a few years ago, so I reread them and then bought and read the last three). Also, I was fascinated with the royal wedding and thought how interesting it would be to see Mia get married. So… here we are! I hope ya'll like it.

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><p><em><strong>Tuesday, July 12th<br>**__**Royal Genovian Bedchamber**_

I think I'm going to throw up.

You know, I thought I could do this. I really could. How many people get married every day? Like, tons. If everyone else can, I can too, right?

Well, let's rephrase that question. How many people get married IN FRONT OF MILLIONS OF PEOPLE? How many people's marriages are STATE FUNCTIONS?

Let me tell you – not many.

Not that I'm so misunderstood or anything. Lots of royals get married and it's a big deal. I don't think anything will ever top William and Kate's wedding – sorry, _Catherine_. Grandmère snaps at me every time I say Kate. Um, sorry Grandmère, but no one calls her Catherine except for the Queen. And Grandmère, of course. But that's just because Grandmère and the Queen are new best friends, due to Genovia being a constitutional monarchy just like England now. I guess the Queen used to view Genovia as being old-fashioned when we were still an absolute monarchy. Go figure.

Anyway, I guess I always knew that my wedding would be like this. Not that I ever really thought about my wedding the way other girls do – I knew that one day I would marry Michael but I never really thought about what the actual wedding would be like. Maybe it's because deep down inside I knew it would be some kind of nightmare like this.

Vigo, the royal Genovian event planner, and Grandmère are basically planning the whole thing. I thought that would be a good thing, because, well, I'm not good at event-planning and I thought it would be less stressful this way. Then Mom was like, "Uh, Mia, are you _sure_ that you don't want to give any input? This is your wedding, after all – you only get one" and then I realized, um, HELLO, Grandmère and I do NOT have the same taste at all and if I wanted this wedding to be at all some kind of representation of me I would have to get involved somehow.

There are a few things that I have no control of, unfortunately – like the fact that my wedding is going to be TELEVISED. That's right; there will be cameras inside the chapel that I get married in, broadcast to the entire world.

I tried to get out of this one big time. I've sacrificed a lot of my private life for the sake of this throne and one thing I was not willing to do was have my WEDDING CEREMONY televised to the world. "When Albert II of Monaco married Charlene, _that _wasn't on TV," I pointed out to Grandmère. I knew this to be true because I'd attended the wedding.

Grandmère just looked at me smugly. "Well, Amelia, the televising of a wedding is done by the demand of the people. They're not going to put a wedding on TV if no one is interested in watching. But for you – well, the people wouldn't miss your wedding for the world!"

"But whyyy-yyyy?" I whined, knowing exactly that I sounded like I was six-years-old.

Grandmère gave me a Look. "Amelia, you do not realize your popularity. Although you are the princess of Genovia, you are seen as America's own princess. You lived there for the first twenty-two years of your life, eight of those which you were in the public eye. You have always been very popular. Naturally, people want to watch this happy day in your life as you become another man's woman."

Normally I would have argued about how no woman is a man's property because a woman doesn't need a man to be happy (even Grandmère always says a woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle!) but I was too annoyed at having lost the fight. I guess she was right – I couldn't deny the people to see my wedding if they really wanted to, right?

Although, really, I could see the embarrassment of the Genovian royal family already – planning this elaborate wedding and televising it for the world to see and having only, like, a million people watch it. That would be _so_ embarrassing, since the average episode of American Idol gets like twenty million viewers.

Whatever, though. If Grandmère wants to embarrass the family, be my guest. I'll just say that I was against the idea.

Because, really, I can't imagine people in America watching my wedding the way they watched William and Kate's – sorry, Catherine. I mean, people woke up at five in the morning to watch it! In California, people just didn't even sleep! I know this because Tina Hakim Baba lives in California (she's going to medical school at UC Davis) and she told me how she drank five cups of coffee just so she could stay up all night to watch it.

I was at the wedding (of course… not to sound braggy. I mean, it's not like I got to go to the reception or anything, which only had 300 people there. That would be something to brag about. I did get to go to the Queen's luncheon, though) and I remember calling my mom after the ceremony and following procession, because I figured she would be awake by then, and as soon as she answered, she was like, "Omigod! Kate looked gorgeous! And I saw you, honey! Three times! They showed you walking in with your father and Grandmère, and then sitting down, and again when Kate was walking up the aisle! You should really be careful about when you pick at your false eyelashes in public, though –"

I barely processed any of this. I was like, "Uh, what?"

Then Mom was like, "The wedding was so beautiful, Mia, I cried!"

"Wait, back up," I said, finally absorbing all this information. "You _watched _it?"

"Of course I watched it," Mom said all obviously, like _Duh, why wouldn't I?_

"But… you woke up at six in the morning for it?"

"Five," she corrected, "So I could watch the arrivals and everything."

"But… WHY!" I yelled.

"Calm down, Mia," Mom said, all annoyed. "I watched Diana's wedding, too. Everyone watched the wedding."

At the time I thought she was crazy. Really, people were that interested in a royal wedding? Royals that they didn't know and that didn't actually have any political power? In fact, I thought most people would be like Lilly and boycott the wedding, since they were using taxpayers' money to hire security and transportation and all that for it.

Although… I guess they had to use taxpayers' money for the security and everything partly because so many taxpayers were _there. _But whatever.

Anyway, a few days later I found out that two billion people watched the wedding. TWO BILLION! That's A THIRD OF THE WORLD!

Amazing.

Oops, gotta go. Time for more wedding planning. Do I even DO anything else anymore?

_**Tuesday, July 12th, 11 p.m.  
><strong>__**Royal Genovian Bedchamber**_

In approximately eleven days, I will be sharing this room with MICHAEL!

The thought is so exciting it almost makes all this wedding stuff worth it.

Okay, fine, it is worth it.

The thing is, though, is that if I weren't royal, I'd already be living with Michael. I mean, we've been dating for, like, ever. Minus that two year or so break when I was in high school. But since then, we've been GREAT! Sarah Lawrence, where I went to school, is pretty close to New York City so we didn't have to do the long distance thing, and Michael knew that when I graduated I'd be moving to Genovia full-time, which meant he knew he would be, too.

Isn't that sweet!

So Michael's been living in this apartment two miles from the palace in downtown Genovia for the last three years, which is annoying because it would be so much easier if he just lived WITH me, but, of course, I'm a princess, so he can't. The royal Genovian family has an image to upkeep, you see, so I can't go shacking up with a man I'm not married to.

Right, because it doesn't matter that I'm the out-of-wedlock product of a fling my dad had in college. Some image.

In any case, Grandmère says that Michael and I have our whole lives to spend together in a palace and that's it's healthier for couples to live apart before marriage. She says I should enjoy being independent from Michael.

Independent? Really? It's not like I'm some savvy twenty-five-year-old college grad living in my own apartment in Chicago with some high-powered, pro-female career or something. No, I'm a twenty-five-year-old college grad PRINCESS living in a huge palace with her grandmother, father, servants, and ladies-in-waiting. Hardly independence. Michael could totally be living in the palace, just in a different wing or something.

But whatever. What's done is done. It's not like he can't afford it. Michael's a millionaire in his own right, due to being the founder, president, and CEO of his company, Pavlov Surgical, in which he invented the CardioArm. And shortly he will be moving into the palace – into MY ROOM!

Today the wedding planning was boring. Most everything has been decided on, since it's less than two weeks away (oh God oh God oh God). The flowers were a whole spectacle – Vigo thought that the color scheme should be blue, green, and white, as those are the Genovian colors as represented in our flag. Grandmère, however, said that those colors just did not go for a wedding and instead wanted to go for blue and white flowers while saving green for the dresses of the bridesmaids. I told her I didn't like the blue and white color scheme, as it made me think of sailors, and Grandmère gave me the dirtiest look. Vigo, however, agreed with me (well, about not liking blue and white – I doubt it's because of the sailor thing) and we managed to convince her to do green and white, on the condition that the green was a dark green.

That had probably been the most dramatic part of planning – well, and when I forced Grandmère to add a vegetarian option for the reception. She just kept saying, "But you're the only one who will eat it," to which can I just say, HELLO, it's MY WEDDING, shouldn't it be what I WANT! If I want a vegetarian meal, I should get a vegetarian meal!

So anyway, other than that it's been smooth sailing. Of course, it's also been so stressful that I'll probably die before I turn forty, but, hey, that's the life of a royal, right?

It's starting to get to the exciting stuff. Well, I guess.

No, I am excited for my wedding, really, I am – I just can't get over the fact that it's TELEVISED!

_**Wednesday, July 13th  
><strong>__**Michael's apartment**_

I'm kind of not supposed to be here but whatever. I'm getting married in T-minus ten days and I'm a princess and I can do whatever I want!

Okay, that's not true, and I promise I'm not six, even though I kind of act like it sometimes. I just had to get out of that palace. Francois, my Genovian bodyguard, is here with me, naturally. He and Michael get along very well, thankfully. They're talking about some stupid boy thing in the kitchen right now.

It is wedding central at the palace. Everyone is running around and making sure that everything is still going smoothly. Grandmère booked all the rooms in three of the four hotels in Genovia as soon as Michael and I chose our date (I wish I could say it was just us that made this decision, but of course it wasn't – Grandmère, my dad, and Vigo had a say as well, so that my wedding didn't conflict with anything else important going on. Imagine that, my wedding inconveniencing others!) so that all the celebrities and out-of-towners attending the wedding would have somewhere to stay.

I thought that was extreme, for her to book the hotels six months in advance. All Grandmère said was, "People will be coming from all over to watch you get married, Amelia, and not all of them will have been invited." At the time I had no idea what she was talking about. Did wedding crashers really try to crash royal weddings? I mean, if they can get in, then kudos! But would there be so many of them that they'll fill up all the hotels in Genovia?

I sincerely thought that this was what Grandmère was talking about so for weeks I kept telling the security to keep an extra eye out for wedding crashers because apparently there were a lot to be expected. Finally, my dad had pulled me aside, looking irritated, and said, "Mia, what are you talking about? Wedding crashers?"

Poor dad. He's always out of the loop, I thought to myself at the time. "Dad," I said patiently, "Grandmère told me that people are coming from all over the world and you know we only invited 2,500 guests" (God, I am such a princess – JUST 2,500!).

Dad just nodded slowly. "Yes, Mia…" he said, as if I had more to say.

I just shrugged. "Well, if there are people that are coming that weren't invited, I'm just trying to let security know."

Dad stared at me for a full minute before he started to laugh. "Oh, Mia – your grandmother wasn't saying that people are coming to crash the wedding. People are coming to _watch_."

I didn't get it.

"Mia, you were at William and Catherine's wedding," Dad said. "Remember all those people? That stood in the streets and watched as they rode to the Abbey and were able to watch the ceremony on screens outside?"

"Well, yeah," I said, still confused. "But I don't get –"

Then I understood, and the following was my reaction:

OH MY GOD.

GRANDMÈRE MEANT THAT PEOPLE WERE COMING FROM ALL OVER THE WORLD TO WATCH ME GET MARRIED!

REGULAR PEOPLE THAT DON'T EVEN KNOW ME!

Needless to say that made me more nervous and dumbfounded. People really did that sort of thing?

But anyway, I figured Grandmère was exaggerating how many people would be there so I didn't think much of it after that day.

Until today, of course, when Grandmère smugly informed me that all the hotels in Genovia were booked (surprise, seeing as how three of them have been booked for six months), as well as all the hotels on Monaco and EVEN A BUNCH IN FRANCE AND ITALY!

And it's ALL FOR MY WEDDING!

As I stared at Grandmère, speechless, she just said, "Yes, it's true! People are booking hotels as far away as Monaco so they can come to Genovia and watch you get married!"

I wanted to throw up.

Which is why, instead, I came here and smelled Michael's neck and felt better.

But not completely better. It's very nerve-racking. I knew this thing would be televised, but I never thought people would be coming to watch…

Michael just walked in with some iced tea for me. "Hey, I haven't seen you write in your journal in _years_," he said, sitting down next to me.

"Desperate times call for desperate measures."

He just laughed. Now he's reading over my shoulder. "Oh, this is about what your grandmother said?" he said. "About all the booked hotels and people that are coming to watch us get married?"

I stared at him incredulously. "You say that as if you're asking me what I want to buy at the grocery store. THIS IS DEFINITELY NOT A TIME FOR GROCERY STORE TONES, MICHAEL!"

He laughed again. "But really, Mia, you're acting like you're so surprised."

"Um. I am."

"Why? You knew your wedding would be like this. All royal weddings are like this, yours even more so because of how popular you are."

I just grumbled. "I definitely did not know random people would be coming just to watch me get married."

"Really?" said Michael in surprise. "I did."

"You did!" I exclaimed, shocked.

"Well," said Michael. "Yeah. I mean, people do that at royal weddings."

"Um, yeah," I said, "Like _Diana of Wales_. I'm no Princess Diana."

"They did that at the wedding in Monaco you went to," he pointed out. "And, really, who cares about the royals in Monaco except the people of Monaco?"

He had a point. "Well, yeah…"

"So if people are camping out over night to watch them get married, I'm sure people will be camping out for a week to watch us," he said.

I frowned. This was stupid. I didn't WANT people from all over the world to watch me get married. What is it about me that would make someone want to do that? I'm just a princess. Who, okay, brought democracy to Genovia as well as published three romance novels since graduating from high school and is consistently voted as one of the most popular young royals next to William and Harry – but STILL! It's not like I invented the CardioArm and made millions on my own; I just inherited millions. And, okay, I make royalties from my books, but definitely not millions, even if I am a princess. It still doesn't compare to what Michael's done.

Maybe they're coming to watch Michael.

He just read that over my shoulder and laughed. "I'm sure," he said.

"You never know," I said. "When I was in England for William and Kate's – SORRY CATHERINE'S – wedding, there were people holding up signs that said stuff like, _It's not too late to marry me, Wills!_ Of course, security took those ones away, but not before I saw a couple."

Michael chuckled. "Well, even if that happens, that's not why ALL the people are coming to watch. Ninety-nine percent of them are for you."

An idea suddenly hatched in my brain. "Let's elope!"

Michael just looked at me with amusement. "What?"

"No, I'm serious!" I was suddenly very excited. "We could just elope! My mom and Mr. G did that when Grandmère planned that ridiculous wedding for them! They just didn't show up and eloped in Mexico! Come on, let's go!"

He just shook his head, laughing. "Mia, you know we can't do that."

I did. But I'd hoped he wouldn't.

"Come on…" I tried.

"Do you think I invented the CardioArm and went away to Japan for nearly two years, allowing you to date that pansy J.P., in order to prove myself worthy to you, only for us to elope and forever lose the respect of not just your royal family but the royal community all over the world?" Michael shook his head again. "I don't think so. Besides, Mia, you know that it's different with you and your mom. You're a princess and have a duty to your people. You mom doesn't. Your grandmother was out of line to plan that wedding for her, but she's justified in this, obviously. I know she's annoying about it, but you know that this isn't just something she decided to do. It's your royal obligation."

God. He is always right.


	2. Chapter 2

_Inside Their Romance!  
><em>_America's own princess's love story with her prince charming: plus, a preview of the upcoming wedding of the year!  
><em>_by Stephanie Silverman_

_**Although she is officially the heir to the throne of Genovia, she has always been seen as the princess of American's hearts since her royal status was revealed nearly 11 years ago, when she was a freshman at a prestigious New York City high school. And now, at age 25, she is set to be married to her longtime love, Michael Moscovitz.**_

_**Mia Thermopolis – or, as she is more formally known, Her Royal Highness Amelia Mignonette Grimaldi Thermopolis Renaldo – was only 14 when she, along with the rest of the world, learned about her status as the next-in-line heir to Genovia, a small European principality between the borders of France and Italy. Since then, she has been in the spotlight and has survived countless rumors and family scandals, such as when her grandmother, the Dowager Princess of Genovia, single-handedly caused a city-wide public servant strike that put nearly all restaurants and hotels out of commission.**_

_**Despite living harshly in the spotlight, Thermopolis has always managed to remain classy and poised, often letting her graceful silence speak volumes more than any words could. Still, that does not mean that the few public speeches she has made in her lifetime have not been powerful: her inspiring tirade against the so-called popular crowd when she ran for, and later won, student council president when she was 15; her history-altering narrative about her ancestress Princess Amelie and her bill to turn Genovia into a constitutional monarchy when speaking to the women of Domina Rei at age 16; and her tear-jerking address as class elected speaker of Sarah Lawrence College during her graduation at age 22. **_

_**Thermopolis has been dating Moscovitz, 28, since around the time her royal status was revealed. The two attended the same high school and Thermopolis has been close with the Moscovitz family for years, having been best friends with Michael's younger sister, Lilly, 25. The couple is famously tight-lipped about their romance to the public, although they were often photographed walking through Central Park or lunching together in Greenwich Village, where Thermopolis lived with her mother, Helen Thermopolis, her step-father, Frank Gianini, and her half-brother, Rocky Thermopolis-Gianini.**_

_**"They are just the cutest couple," a source that attended high school with the pair gushes. "Everyone could see that they were perfect for each other before even they knew. They just complement each other so well and are just so **_**right**_** together."**_

_**Still, their relationship has not been without hardships. The pair briefly split for a year and a half when Moscovitz moved to Japan to begin work on his invention, the CardioArm, a major medical breakthrough that has placed Moscovitz on the medical technological map as well as earned him, and his company Pavlov Surgical, millions. During this time, Thermopolis was often seen out with John-Paul Reynolds Abernathy IV, son of successful producer John-Paul Reynolds Abernathy III. Although Thermopolis's reps consistently denied to comment on the nature of the relationship, sources say they were indeed a pair during this time.**_

_**"Everyone knew Michael and Mia were meant to be," the source explained. "Mia was hurting after he left and she kind of rebounded with J.P., who claimed he'd always loved her. They were cute together, sure, but as soon as Michael moved back to New York City, he and Mia were back together."**_

_**A union that most have described as a fairytale fit for a princess will soon culminate in a marriage. Thermopolis moved to Genovia full-time following her graduation from Sarah Lawrence, with Moscovitz dutifully following in the way that a royal suitor should. Still, the pair waited more than two years before getting engaged, finally making the announcement that they planned to marry on Christmas Day of last year.**_

_**Moscovitz and Thermopolis travelled together to Greece in early December to attend the Prime Minister's birthday party, a vacation that they extended to include one-on-one time. Sources say that Moscovitz presented the princess with her ring, which had previously belonged to an unnamed ancestress, while spending a night together on the island of Crete. An official announcement was made two weeks later by the Genovian Palace.**_

_**Sources that are a part of the wedding planning process are promising for the nuptials to rival that of Prince William and Princess Catherine, which at the time was viewed to be the wedding of the century.**_

_**"This wedding just might top [William and Kate's]," the source boasts. "Yes, the British royal family is very popular, but Mia **_**herself**_** is extremely popular. She put Genovia in the public eye. Many Americans had never even heard of Genovia before Princess Mia became famous." **_

_**The source promises that her wedding will not be one to forget. "It's going to be beautiful," the source gushes. "The Royal Genovian Chapel will be breathtaking, the procession will be heart-wrenching – just watching Princess Mia travel from the palace to the chapel by horse carriage will make everyone cry. The world, but especially America, feels like they personally know this girl and that is her greatest quality. Even though she is a princess, that is not what defines her."**_

_**Still, the source remains mum on the detail that everyone is dying to know about – the wedding dress. "My lips are sealed," the source says. "I wouldn't even have anything to tell you – the only people that know anything about the dress is the princess, the dowager princess, and the designers – whoever they are." **_

_**Rumors had persisted that the Genovian designer Sebastiano was creating the dress, but he was recently seen vacationing in Australia.**_

_**One thing is clear: this is not a wedding that is going to be missed by many. "I'm so excited," **_**PEOPLE **_**reader Caroline Fischer wrote in. "I'm taking the day off of work to watch it."**_

_**Royal expert Nadya Trevan predicts that the number of viewership for the wedding, which is expected to be broadcast on CNN, NBC, MSNBC, and Fox News in North America as well as various networks all around the world, to be at around the same number for William and Kate's wedding, which was estimated to be about two billion. "I could see Mia's wedding getting more people watching," Trevan explained, "because, while many Americans are fascinated with the British royals, they feel a personal connection with Mia, and it's the North American viewership that will likely make the difference."**_

_**In any case, no one can deny the fact that this wedding will go down in history. Not only has July 23**__**been named a national holiday in Genovia as well as Monaco, Japan, Spain, and the United Kingdom, but it is estimated that approximately one million spectators will gather in Genovia just to catch of glimpse of Princess Mia on her big day.**_

_**"Mia deserves this," former high school English teacher and writing mentor Karen Martinez shares with **_**PEOPLE.**_** "She's an amazing girl with a big heart and a beautiful spirit. She's done great things already in her life and will continue to do them after she marries Michael. She deserves all the good she receives in the world."**_

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><p><em><strong>Thursday, July 14th<br>**__**Royal Genovian Sunroom**_

It's a beautiful day outside and I'm not going to let anything spoil my good mood. Why?

Because my mom and Mr. G and Rocky are coming tomorrow!

Frank. Must call him Frank. I mean, seriously, they've been married for almost eleven years now.

Also, my friends are coming on Saturday!

Grandmère didn't let me pick my bridesmaids. I know, it sounds crazy, but because my wedding is a state affair (not just because I'm a princess, but because I'm next in line to the throne) there are certain things that are out of my control. Thus, that is why my bridesmaids will be: Princess Alexandra of Hanover (Monaco) Aiko, Princess Toshi (Japan), Doña Victoria Federica (Spain), and Catherine, Duchess of Cambridge (Britain).

Yes, all my bridesmaids are princesses. Grandmère says it's a good idea because it will strengthen some of Genovia's friendships with these countries, which is very important.

It's unfortunate that countries will base their alliances on if their princesses are in the bridal party of another princess's wedding, but I can't exactly change that mentality. What's done is done.

And, yes, three of those four princesses are a few years younger than me. Kate will look a little out of place, especially when she's next to my maid-of-honor, Tina Hakim Baba.

Because Grandmère at least let me pick my maid-of-honor. I'm sure she would have preferred for me to pick Miranda Kerr-Bloom or some other super hot Victoria's Secret model, but I could care less.

Tina cried when I asked her. "Oh, my God, Mia, of course I'll be your maid-of-honor!" she sobbed. Normally I would have been alarmed, but Tina started crying more over the last few years. She and Boris broke up in their third year of college when Boris moved permanently to Russia to play in the Russian Philharmonic Orchestra and Tina knew she would be moving to California for medical school. Ever since then, she cries at the drop of a hat.

It might be slightly awkward because they're both going to be at the wedding, but the topic hasn't been breached yet and I'm so not going to be the one to breach it.

She, Lilly, Lana, and Rachelle (my roommate at Sarah Lawrence) are coming on Saturday and they keep saying that we're doing a "bachelorette" party even though Tina's the only one actually in the bridal party. I'm slightly worried because they want to do it Hangover style (as in, the movie), which actually does not sound like fun to me AT ALL but to everyone else in the world, it's like "Let's go to Vegas and party Hangover style!" I guess there's something wrong with me. Or maybe not, I mean, I established long ago that I'm not a party girl.

So, anyway, I'm very excited to see Mom and Mr. G (Frank) and Rocky. Rocky is ten years old – where did the time go! Is this what it's like to be a mother? If so, it sucks. I remember when Rocky was just a baby – actually, the day he was BORN seems just like yesterday. And now, he's ten! Starting fifth grade in a couple of months!

"Amelia!"

Oh no. Nooooo. What does she want? I just want to enjoy sitting in my sunroom and she has to ruin it…

"Amelia!"

I sighed. "What, Grandmère?"

She just threw a magazine on top of my journal. "Stop writing for five seconds and take a look at this."

It was this week's issue of PEOPLE magazine. Michael and I are on the cover – I've gotten used to being on the cover of magazines in the last eleven years since I've been a semi-celebrity, but it's weird to see Michael. Michael started appearing on magazine covers when I was in college and he started attending state functions with me as my escort. Photographers would take pictures of us just standing next to each other, watching a polo match or listening to a speech (and often, embarrassingly, looking bored out of our minds) and across the photo, reporters would write, "Michael and Mia's secret engagement?" or "Sources hint to a royal announcement: engagement or pregnancy?" The magazines seemed to LOVE the whole angle of me and Michael having a child out of wedlock like my dad did. They liked to print those rumors every few months.

Anyway, it was weird seeing Michael on covers (always with me) but it's even WEIRDER seeing him THIS way – posing for a cover. Well, okay, we didn't actually pose for the PEOPLE cover, but they used one of our official engagement photos, which we did pose for. Michael and I are not used to PDA of any kind, so our pictures look awkward. We had to hold a press conference after the Genovian Palace announced our engagement; first we posed in front of a bajillion photographers taking our picture (still not used to posing) and then we had interviews with Barbara Walters and other similar journalists. A few days later, we took our "official" engagement photos, which I'm glad was just one hired photographer, because it would have been embarrassing if one hundred of them had to be like, "Please, Princess, look natural, like you're actually HAPPY to be marrying the man that you love" instead of just one saying it.

"Michael, put your arms ALL the way around her," he kept saying in this thick French accent. "Princess, smile with your eyes. You two are in LOVE, show it!"

It took a very long time but we finally got some good shots. Still, though, we look awkward. Maybe not to the world, but to people that know us, we look weird. I remember Mom calling me and said, snickering, "So, um, I didn't realize you and Michael had never touched each other before. In Genovia, are eleven-year-olds allowed to marry?"

Yes, my own mother compared me to an eleven-year-old.

Shoot, I just realized Grandmère is still in front of me and has been talking this whole time.

"AMELIA!"

"What?" I snapped in a very un-princess-like way.

"I asked you," she said, breathing fire out of her nose, "if you happen to know who the source was that knew the wedding details."

I shrugged. "To be honest, Grandmère, I thought it was you."

"Me!" Grandmère looked so offended I knew she wasn't lying. "Why would it be me?"

"Um… because you love press and you're the one that leaked my princess identity in the first place?"

Grandmère narrowed her eyes on me. "Oh, I see, so you still hang that over my head." She sniffed in irritation. I hope when I'm old, I never _sniff_. "Well, for your information, it was most certainly NOT me and I want to know who it is so I can fire them. This wedding is a very delicate matter and I don't want the media to find out anything more unless I want them to." Suddenly she stared down at me, hard. Her expression was so frightening that I actually leaned back.

"What?"

"Amelia, DO NOT WRITE ANYTHING ABOUT YOUR WEDDING DRESS IN THAT JOURNAL!" she practically screamed, and the fact that it was in French made it sound even scarier.

"I haven't," I said defensively.

"Well, DON'T!" she snapped. "God knows you're irresponsible and could just leave your journal lying around and anyone could pick it up and release the information on your top-secret dress…"

"Hey!" I said. Totally out of line! "Grandmère, I have NEVER left my journal lying around! No one's ever found it!" Which is good, because then a lot of awful things would have come out…

"Well," was all she said before walking away.

God. I will never get used to this family.

_**Friday, July 15th, 2 p.m.  
><strong>__**Royal Genovian Bedchamber**_

THEY'RE HERE! THEY'RE HERE!

Oh, it's so nice to see my mom! I haven't seen her since February when I went back to New York City with Michael. Even though Michael lives in Genovia, he has to travel to New York a lot, since that is where the Pavlov Surgical corporate offices are. Because he and I are not married yet, he doesn't have access to the Royal Genovian Jet. He claims, though, that he won't use it even when we are married, due to the whole polluting the environment thing.

Anyway, I went with him on this random week in February. I always have functions or banquets or weddings or balls or funerals to go to, so I'm not able to go to New York very often – which sucks more is that I'm not able to go there for Christmas because for some reason there's ALWAYS SOMETHING GOING ON! I mean, really people? You can't take the day off? Don't royal people like to see their families too? It's not like they're athletes and can't choose when their games are. It's YOUR PARTY. Just HAVE IT THE NEXT DAY!

Anyway. I haven't spent an actual Christmas in New York ever. Before I knew I was a princess I would spent half of my summer and my Christmas vacation with my dad in France, and the only thing that changed when I became a princess was that half the summer became the whole summer and France became Genovia. When I was younger, I always thought that once I turned eighteen and wasn't forced to go anywhere for my vacations I could spend Christmas with my mom in New York, but, well, that didn't happen. But, even though I've never spent a Christmas in New York, my mom has come to Genovia with Mr. G and Rocky every other year to spend it in the palace with us.

Rocky just loves the palace. He's so adorable – but I guess I can't call him adorable anymore, because he's _ten_. Back in February, when he was nine, he was all cute still and didn't mind that I squeezed him half the death and told him eighty times how he was the most adorable boy in the world. Now that he's ten, though, he's like "Mia, _stooo-oooop_!" whenever I tell one of my ladies-in-waiting to say "hi" to my adorable little brother.

"Mom!" I whined before we sat down for lunch. "What's wrong with Rocky? He's not my little boy anymore!"

"Mia," Mom said tiredly. She always acts this way when I get weird about Rocky – well, Michael says I'm being weird, anyway. "He's ten, he's still little. He just doesn't need his big sister treating him like he's six."

I looked very offended but Michael hushed me.

Then, I started thinking about how when _I_ have kids and how, if I can't deal with Rocky growing up, how will I handle my kids growing up? I mean, my mom would let me take the subway to school with Lilly when I was fourteen – I CAN NOT IMAGINE Rocky taking the subway in four years. NEVER. He's SO LITTLE! He can't take the subway because what if someone sees this helpless little boy and KIDNAPS HIM! Or what if the train crashes? What if he misses his stop and gets lost? Manhattan is huge, SO EASY for a kid to get lost in!

Basically, I can never be a mother. I don't want Rocky to do these things, but I'm not his parent so I can't stop it. But when I'M the one in charge – well, I'm afraid that I won't let them do anything. My kids will be one of those weirdo kids with stunted growth and emotional issues because their mom was psycho and didn't let them leave the house until they were seven or take the subway and then they'll never make friends or date and then they'll have commitment and attachment problems and they'll be cat people for the rest of their lives, ALL BECAUSE I HAVE ABANDOMENT ISSUES!

Not that there's anything wrong with being a cat person. I'm so a cat person. I'm a really good cat person, too, because Fat Louie is still puttering around at nineteen.

Anyway, that is why, in the middle of lunch, I interrupted whatever conversation was going on (something between Michael and Mr. G about the newest beta version of CardioArm) to say, "Michael, we can never have children."

The people in the room (Grandmère, Mom, Dad, Mr. G, Rocky, Michael, Vigo – because he basically never leaves Grandmère's side – Francois, and the nine servers that presented us with our food) turned to stare at me in bewilderment.

Before anyone else had a chance to respond, Grandmère said, "Nonsense, Amelia. You must produce an heir and a spare."

I ignored her. "We can't have children because I'm crazy and have abandonment issues and won't let them take the subway until they're twenty because they might get kidnapped or lost and because of that they'll have to deal with emotional issues and not have friends and they'll hate me."

They were even more confused after that rant. "Mia –" Michael started, but Grandmère cut in again.

"Well, there are no subways in Genovia," she said matter-of-factly. "And you needn't worry about them getting kidnapped or lost because once they are old enough to be leaving the palace unattended, they will have a bodyguard."

Well. I hadn't thought about that.

Still.

"Still!" I said. "I can't even deal with ROCKY growing up! How can I deal with MY OWN KIDS?"

"Mia, you're just overreacting about this whole 'adorable' thing," Mom said in irritation.

Rocky just looked confused.

"Well…" Mr. G said. "Philippe, when does the campaign start for the next election?"

Totally steered the conversation away from my strange outburst. You know, I don't have as many of these as I did when I was in high school, but they still come out every once in a while.

_**Friday, July 15th, 11 p.m.  
><strong>__**Royal Genovia Bedchamber**_

Can I just say – I AM MARRYING THE BEST MAN IN THE WORLD.

Seriously. Sorry, girls, but the best guy out there is MINE. Hopefully you'll find someone half as good.

Michael was nice enough not to bring up my abandonment-issue flare-up from lunch. We spent the day with my family, eating out in Genovia (me, Michael, Mom, Mr. G, Rocky, and Francois) and walking through town before eating dinner and dessert in the palace. Then they retreated to the wing that they stay in whenever they visit and Michael and I went out into the garden.

We love the garden, Michael and I. Every time he eats dinner at the palace, we go outside together and walk around, sometimes talking but other times just… walking. The garden is one of the most beautiful spots in Genovia and a very popular tourist location – on an international scale, some say it is a smaller and yet more beautiful alternate to the Buchart Gardens in Victoria, Canada. Luckily it's closed at night, so Michael and I go in it then.

I always thought he would propose to me here, but I'm kind of glad he didn't. It would be kinda lame to have had him propose in such a famous touristy spot and it's special enough to us without having that attached to it.

Anyway, so we were walking around, not talking and just enjoying the warm summer night, when Michael turns to me. "Mia," he said.

He took my hands in his and looked at me deeply. Briefly, I thought he was going to say _Let's elope!_ but I knew that was too good to be true.

"There's something I want to give you." He looked strange and at the time I couldn't figure out what it was, but now I knew it was apprehensiveness. He was nervous for what he was going to give me, which I can't understand WHY because it was the best thing EVER!

But, anyway, I just said dumbly, "Uh, ok."

"I already talked to your grandmother about this and made sure it was okay," he then said.

I looked at him very strangely. Since when has he run presents by my grandmother?

He obviously noticed me looking at him like he was nuts and said quickly, "Oh, but that's because it's about the wedding!"

"Oh… okay," I said, as if I understood, but I totally didn't.

Finally, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small velvet box, only slightly bigger than a ring box. I knew it wasn't a ring, because he's already given me one of those, so I was confused.

Then he opened it, and the most beautiful earrings gleamed up at me. They were dangly earrings, about a half inch long, and at the end of each a beautiful diamond was fastened. They were probably the nicest earrings I'd ever seen before and my breath caught.

"Michael," I breathed, reaching out and taking them from him. "They're… they're beautiful."

"They were my mom's," he said, somewhat bashfully.

I stared at him now instead of the earrings. "But… why are you giving them to me?"

"She wants you to have them," Michael said. "She wants you to wear them for the wedding. For your something old."

"What?" I said intelligently.

"You know," Michael said, now looking at me as if I was kind of crazy. "Doesn't every bride have that something old, something new, something –"

"Oh, yes," I interrupted. "I know what you mean."

"Well." Michael shrugged. "My mom wore those at her wedding – her mom bought them for her as her something new. She always wanted to give them to Lilly, but Lilly's made it pretty clear that she is never getting married and, even if she does, she wouldn't have a traditional wedding like this and would never wear earrings like that – if my mom gave them to her, she'd probably just sell them to feed some third-world country."

All I could do was snort at his use of the word "traditional" in describing our wedding.

"Well, anyway," Michael continued, "Mom decided to give them to you and have them be your something old, since, you know, she got married over thirty years ago. I had to check with your grandmother first, though, because I assumed that she'd figured all this stuff out already, but she said they could tweak some things so you could wear those earrings."

I totally knew why. These earrings are going to match _perfectly_ with the tiara I'm wearing at my wedding and I'm one hundred percent positive that that's what she was thinking.

Whatever. Michael is THE BEST FIANCE EVER and I CAN'T WAIT TO MARRY HIM. Seriously. It sucks that my wedding is this huge deal, but I cannot wait to be Mrs. Michael Moscovitz.

Well… okay, so I won't be Mrs. Michael Moscovitz. Instead, he's going to be His Royal Highness Prince Michael Renaldo.

But still. I CAN'T WAIT!


	3. Chapter 3

_**Saturday, July 16th, 2 p.m.  
><strong>__**Royal Genovian Bedchamber**_

Well, they're here.

Rachelle, Lilly, Lana, and Tina, that is.

I'd sort of forgotten that the main reason I became friends with Lana is because I stopped being friends with Lilly, so I'm a little worried. They're already being snippy with each other. Come on, now, high school was so long ago! Can't they grow up?

Anyway, they're staying in two rooms in my wing of the palace, Lana with Rachelle and Lilly with Tina. We had lunch when they got here with Grandmère, Vigo, Mom, Mr. G, Rocky, Michael, and Vigo, and then I showed them around the palace (only Lilly has ever been to Genovia, once to visit in high school and once a couple years ago to visit Michael and me with her parents), and then to their rooms. They're jet-lagged so they all want to take a nap and then get ready to go out tonight.

I've never actually "gone out" in Genovia before. There isn't really much of a party-scene here. Sure, there are a few bars and pubs, but nothing, like, super crazy like New York City or Vegas. I'm afraid they'll be disappointed.

Lana mentioned something about crossing borders, but I really, REALLY hope she doesn't mean going into to Italy and France. That might be too much for me to handle. But I guess Francois will be there, so nothing awful can happen.

Right?

Also, it was way awkward during lunch, when Tina started talking about how nervous she was to be the maid-of-honor because of how many people are going to be watching the wedding on TV (she also read the article in PEOPLE magazine), and she really hopes the maid-of-honor dress will be flattering on her and hopefully she doesn't smear her makeup or sweat her foundation off or something.

Lilly was totally quiet the whole time and then she turned to me and said all casually, "Oh, so Tina's your maid-of-honor?"

"Yeah."

"Oh."

"Why?"

"I just didn't know."

She said it all really weirdly, but I couldn't figure out why. I've been friends with Lilly since kindergarten, so I know her pretty well, but she couldn't possibly be upset about this… could she? I mean, she's the one that launched a tirade against William and Kate's wedding on her TV show, _Lily Tells It Like It Is_ (which is really big in South Korea, but still shown in parts of the US, too), about how the royals were wholly misusing taxpayers money and that there was really no reason for anyone to be so interested in watching it because William did nothing but get born and Kate did nothing but look really good walking down a catwalk in a see through dress to catch his attention and that we should put the royals in their place by refusing to watch the ridiculous spectacle that the wedding had turned into.

And, you know, I think viewership of the wedding in South Korea was actually lower than expected, so maybe some people agreed with her.

That's just one reason I didn't ask Lilly to be my maid-of-honor. Lilly sometimes does things without thinking about others. Like the time she had me run for student council president just so I could win and step down and then SHE could take over, without taking into consideration how I felt about it. Or the time she played strip bowling in the Genovian Palace bowling alley with other young royals when we were fifteen. Or the time she made out with a guy that wasn't her boyfriend at my fifteenth birthday party. Lilly is a genius but sometimes she acts irrationally, and I couldn't risk her doing something insane like cutting off the pope to make some kind of speech about how people were wasting their lives declaring the day of my wedding as a national holiday, or something.

Which _is_ kind of weird, I guess, but they only did it in Genovia and in the countries that my bridesmaids rule over.

Anyway, Lilly has never expressed an ounce of excitement for my wedding; every time I talk to her, she makes some snide comment about how much the wedding costs and how could we do that to our taxpayers, and every single time I remind her that Genovian citizens do NOT pay taxes and that the Genovian royal family is paying for the whole thing, to which she always retorts that all of the money being spent on my nuptials could do so much more good if it were used to end world hunger or something.

On the one hand, I totally agree with her. This wedding costs around $20 million, which is absolutely CRAZY, because, really, how in the heck does it cost that much? Flowers need to cost $800,000? I mean, I know the Royal Genovian Chapel is huge and can seat more than 2,000 people, but COME ON.

On the other hand, though, she's kind of out of line. I mean, I do a lot of charity work. And I mean, A LOT. You'd never realize just how hard charity work is until you do it full time. Because I don't just throw money at these places, I go to them, too. I've spent weeks in African villages to build homes and schools; I've been to areas where ninety percent of the population is stricken with AIDS; I've gone to children's hospitals with kids who are dying of cancer; I visit animal shelters where they put an animals to sleep after only two days if they haven't been adopted because it's too small. I donate to the American Red Cross, Elizabeth Glaser Pediatric AIDS Foundation, Wildlife Conservation Society, Mental Health Association, and tons others. Also, who do you think started the first Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure in Genovia? Yeah, that's right, I did.

So it's a little presumptuous of Lilly to make comments about how the Royal Genovian Family spends their money based on how much of it I give away. She knows all this, too. It's not like I'm Imelda Marcos or anything, who ruled over the Philippines, a country that had no money, and yet she owned, like, four thousand pairs of shoes and spent all the country's money on things like sending planes to Australia to get white sand for her beach resort.

So if Lilly is upset at not being my maid-of-honor, I will be absolutely SHOCKED. We haven't ever been as close as we used to be since our big fight at the beginning of my junior year of high school. We barely talked for almost two years. Sure, we made up, but right after that we graduated and then I went to Genovia for the summer and then we went off to college (her to Columbia and me to Sarah Lawrence… okay, they're like an hour train ride away, but still) and then I moved to Genovia full time. Tina and I don't necessarily get along better, but we get along in a different way; I can relate to her on things I can't relate to with Lilly (like royal weddings), and I can relate to Lilly on things I can't relate to with Tina (like list-making).

Well, I better go and start getting ready for this outing we're having tonight.

Please, God, let it not be "Hangover" style.

_**Saturday, July 16th, 9 p.m.  
><strong>__**Bathroom of Bread Nightclub**_

Yes, I'm in a nightclub called Bread. Apparently the owner thought it would catch on like the nightclub in NYC called Butter did, but there aren't a huge amount of people here. Whatever, it's Genovia.

So it turns out Lilly is TOTALLY mad about not being my maid-of-honor!

Moment of silence for shock.

But seriously!

So at five o' clock, after everyone had napped and then gotten ready, we went out to dinner at this really nice Italian restaurant called Giuseppe's near the Italian border (the five of us, with Francois sitting at the bar) and Lana and Rachelle started laying out their plans for the evening. They'd never met before coming here, but I guess they bonded really quickly in their room. Rachelle is kind of a mix of me and Lana (not receiving Lana's bitchiness, of course).

Rachelle and I met when we were assigned to be roommates our freshman year and we lived together every year after that, too. At first I was intimidated, because she was WAY BEAUTIFUL. Seriously, she could be a model. She's tall (only an inch shorter than me), skinny, and has this long, silky brown hair and pretty green eyes. But Rachelle never let the fact that she was rooming with a princess weird her out and she treated me like everyone else, which I liked. No fawning, no complaining about Lars always being around (actually, she thought he was cute), no asking to ride on the Royal Genovian Jet or anything.

She partied a lot and actually convinced me to go with her. I'm still not a party girl – I would much rather watch TV with Fat Louie and Michael in my PJ's any day – but I'm no longer awkward in social situations that involve alcohol because of Rachelle.

She's from Louisiana, too, so she's like a classy Southern girl, minus the couple times she brought boys home with her (thank God she didn't do that when we were sharing a room) and then never called them again. She's like Lana in the sense that she's beautiful and guys love her but she's a major tease, and she loves fashion, and she's like me in the sense that she's totally into pop culture, even nerdy things like Battlestar Gallactica and Star Trek and stuff. She even dressed up with me for the Harry Potter 7 premiere when Michael couldn't because he had to go on a business trip to Switzerland.

So anyway, Rachelle and Lana were totally excited about the evening.

"We're going to start off by going to that cute little bar we passed on Main Street and pre-game there, right after dinner," Lana said.

And then Rachelle was like, "There's only one nightclub here, called Bread, that we'll hit after."

"And if it's lame, which we think it might be – no offense, Mia, but Bread? Really? – then we looked up some bars that are only like thirty miles across the border in Italy and some cool clubs, too," Lana said.

"I hope you don't have anything to do tomorrow, Mia, because we're gonna get _smashed_," Rachelle said.

Tina looked nervously excited. She didn't party much at NYU, partly because she was dating Boris and because she was pre-med. Then, after she and Boris broke up, she just studied more. And now she's actually in med school, so she has even more studying to do. Plus, she says there's nothing to do in Davis, which is about forty minutes west of Sacramento, which she also says is boring.

Lilly, though, looked annoyed. She doesn't party by choice. She's still dating Kenneth and thinks that people that need to get drunk to have a good time are people that are unhappy with themselves and their ability to create fun on their own and also that alcohol makes people make bad decisions and act stupid and sloppy.

"Sounds fun!" Tina said giddily.

"Do you think that's a good idea?" Lilly said irritably. "I mean, Mia's getting married in, like, a week. It wouldn't make for good press if she was stumbling around the bars in Italy drunk out of her mind a week before her wedding." Then she shot me a look. "I'm just trying to look out for you in the way your maid-of-honor should be." She looked pointedly at Tina.

Tina frowned but said nothing, and I was just like, um, what the heck is going on?

"Don't worry, Francois will be there the whole time," Lana said, rolling her eyes at Lilly. "Mia will be fine."

"Francois can't protect Mia if there's paparazzi," Lilly retorted.

"Oh, I forgot about all the paparazzi!" Lana said very sarcastically. "Look at all of them outside! Oh wait – THERE'S NONE OUT THERE!"

Lilly narrowed her eyes. "Anyone can call the press at any moment."

"Lilly," I cut in finally. "There really isn't paparazzi in Genovia like there was in New York. I mean, only 50,000 people live here, they've all seen me in person at least once…"

She turned her glare to me. Geez, I forgot how piercing they are. "Please, Mia, how long have you known you're a princess for? Eleven years? If we go to some club in Italy and you're pounding back shots, you really think not one person will somehow get a hold of the press to be waiting for us when we leave? God, you are so dense."

Lilly hadn't insulted me like that in a long time. I was starting to get annoyed.

"We just want to have some fun," I said. Sure, I don't love the idea of getting smashed or whatever, but going out is fun on occasion and I didn't understand why Lilly was being such a sour puss about it. "Did Kenneth tell you he didn't want you to go out or something?"

"As if," she scoffed, "he could tell me what to do."

"Then what," I asked, "is the problem!"

Lilly stared at me for a loooooong time and then stood up really fast. "If you don't know, I'm not going to tell you!" She stomped into the bathroom.

I sighed and looked at everyone else. Rachelle looked shocked (what a great first impression of Lilly, whom I always told her a lot about but she never actually met), Lana annoyed, and Tina was just looking down at her plate, evidently still hurt by Lilly's maid-of-honor comment.

I excused myself and headed into the bathroom as well, figuring it was as good a time as any to get the truth out of Lilly.

When I got there, she was in a stall. I could see her chucky black boots underneath the stall doors. "Lilly," I said, after confirming that no one else was in there. "What's your problem? Why are you being so mean?"

"I can't believe," she sniffed, "you don't know." Was Lilly really crying?

I just groaned. "Please just tell me. You know I'm not good at this stuff. Let's just get it out of the way now."

There was a short silence. "Fine," she snapped, suddenly not crying. She opened the stall door and stepped out, scowling at me with her hands on her hips. Not surprisingly, there were no tears on her face. "I mean, I guess it would be ridiculous for you to ask your best friend since kindergarten and the sister of your to-be-husband to be your maid-of-honor, instead of some girl you only became friends with in high school when we weren't speaking. When you didn't ask me, I just assumed your maid-of-honor was chosen for you, like your bridesmaids."

I literally could not believe it. I think I might've stared at her for, like, ten minutes. Finally, I was like, "Are you JOKING?"

Once upon a time, I would have withered under her murderous gaze, but not this time. No, I am sick of Lilly acting one way yet thinking another. It had to stop.

And so I unloaded on her. I don't think it was all anger at her; it was also stress at the whole wedding situation in general. "Lilly. You cannot do this. Not this time. You have made it perfectly clear that you despise the idea of elaborate, royal weddings, evidenced by your boycott of William and Kate's as well as your mean comments about how much money is being spent on mine. Do you REALLY think I would ask you to be my maid-of-honor? So you can laugh in my face? That's what you're really mad about, isn't it? Not because you're not my maid-of-honor, but because I didn't ask you first so you could say no to prove a point."

Lilly had gotten so red in the face she resembled a sunburned pug. She waited, tight-lipped, for me to finish, and then said, "Wow, Mia. You know, I knew the day would come where you put what the public thought about you above the people you care about."

"Lilly," I practically screamed, "you KNOW that's not true! Why would I ask you to be my maid-of-honor when you HATE ROYAL WEDDINGS? To be honest, since you hate them so much, I think the only reason you're here is because you're Michael's sister and your parents MADE YOU come!"

She was so mad at that point that she was speechless, which doesn't happen very often. She gaped at me like a fish out of water and then just brushed past me and went back into the restaurant.

I followed and the rest of the meal was a little awkward, since Lilly was so angry and not speaking to anyone. I half-expected her to leave after dinner and go back to the palace, but she didn't. She followed us out to the limo and got in, allowing it to take us a few blocks away to this nightclub, with Lana and Rachelle standing up and sticking their heads out of the sunroof and screaming at the top of their lungs (they'd each had three glasses of red wine already).

I can barely stand it. Lilly is moping around and glaring at everybody and she had absolutely no right to be. One thing is for sure – I will be getting, as Rachelle calls it, smashed tonight. It's the only way I can get through this evening.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN:** Thanks for reading! I have finished writing this story, it's 9 chapters long, so I hope you continue to enjoy it! And if you want to review, that'd be cool too… :)

* * *

><p><em><strong>Sunday, July 17th, 10 a.m.<br>**__**Royal Genovian Bedchamber**_

Oh God. I feel like I'm going to die.

I have NEVER been so drunk before. Never. Not in my lifetime.

You know how drunk I was? I don't even remember most of the night. That's right, I blacked out.

Princess Mia partied blacked out drunk a week before her wedding.

PRINCESSES ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO GET BLACK OUT DRUNK!

I woke up at seven in the morning to throw up. After doing so, I knocked on the door to Francois's room, which is right next to mine. He answered the door very crankily. "Yes, princess?" he grumbled in French.

"Francois," I asked, "I barely remember anything from last night. Please tell me nothing awful happened to make me be labeled as the new royal party girl."

He shook his head. "You were fine," he said. "You are a very sleepy drunk."

Wow. I blacked out and it turns out I was sleepy. I am so boring.

"I did lose you at one point," he added very guiltily.

Now here was juice. "Really?" I said. In high school, I'd always been trying to ditch Lars in some way but never could. I outgrew that once I reached college-age and by the time I was in Genovia and Francois was my permanent bodyguard, I was used to it. I'd never tried to lose him, but of course my blacked out drunk self was able to. The only time I manage to lose my bodyguard and I can't even remember it. "What happened?"

"One minute you were half passed-out at the bar and the next you were outside hailing a cab. I barely had time to realize you were gone before you were inside and already down the block. I gathered your friends and asked if they knew where you were headed, and Tina said you mentioned Michael, so we all got into the limo and went to Michael's apartment, calling your cell phone every two seconds."

"I went to Michael's?" I said, surprised. I hadn't even really been thinking about him last night. I mean, not any more than I usually do.

He nodded. "We were only a few minutes behind you; we arrived as you were leaving his building."

"Leaving?" I said. Also strange. My drunken self probably just wanted to smell his neck. How embarrassing. "Well. Thank you, Francois. Go back to sleep."

"Where are you going?" he asked suspiciously. He's probably going to be extra careful from now on.

"Back to bed," I grumbled as I held my hand to my pounding head. I shuffled down the hall and back into my bedroom, where I've been since. I don't want to get up, even though my ladies-in-waiting keep trying to. At seven-thirty, I told them there was no way in hell I could eat breakfast, unless they wanted me to throw it up all over Grandmère. They keep coming by every half hour to check on me. You know, it's pretty embarrassing when everyone knows you're totally hungover.

Someone's knocking on my door. Really loudly. Don't they KNOW what it's like to have a hangover?

Uh oh.

It's dad and Grandmère.

_**Sunday, July 17th, 3 p.m.  
><strong>__**Royal Genovian Library**_

This is the only place that I can find some peace and quiet. You'd think my father would be more sympathetic, but noooooo. He says that me being so hungover is very un-princess-like and that I need to get up and act like nothing is wrong. Grandmère said the same, launching into the story about how she had a hundred-and-two degree fever on her wedding, but did that stop her from standing through an hour-long ceremony and blah blah blah.

Whatever. They so don't get it.

After they practically dragged me out of bed and my ladies-in-waiting helped me get dressed, I shuffled after them into the Royal Genovian Dining Hall, where my mom, Mr. G, Rocky, Lana, Rachelle, Lilly, and Tina were waiting. Thankfully there was no food on the table or I would've hurled again.

Lana and Rachelle looked a little droopy-eyed, but Lilly and Tina were fine. Lilly drank nothing last night and Tina just had a couple weak margaritas.

"There's our champ," Lana said as soon as I walked in. Geez, has her voice always been this loud? "I can't believe you're even standing after what you consumed last –"

"Enough," Dad said irritably from behind me. WHY IS EVERYONE YELLING? "We just want to go over some wedding stuff."

I barely listened. I didn't even care. I just kept thinking about my bed and how soft and warm it was and how much better my head would feel resting on my pillow instead of my hand.

"Amelia!"

I nearly jumped out of my skin. "What?" I snapped.

Grandmère gave me an evil look. "I was just explaining to your maid-of-honor her duties and I noticed you looked about ready to fall asleep."

"Well," I said grumpily, "I did only get like four hours of sleep last night…"

"And whose fault is that?" she growled.

She said all this in French, so only my dad and I understood. Well, Tina and Lana understood a little, I think, because they took French in high school, but Grandmère talks really fast.

I rolled my eyes. I know this isn't princess-like at all and that I was acting like a brat, but my head hurt SO MUCH! I just wanted to lie down but they were forcing me to sit here to talk about stuff I already knew.

At the look my dad gave me, I sighed and said, "I'm sorry, Grandmère."

We went through wedding details for another hour, mostly the procession stuff. The ceremony starts at five, but the procession starts at four. The Royal Genovian Chapel is across town, so the procession starts here and ends there. We were to be taken in horse-driven carriages; when Lilly heard this, she shot me an accusing look, no doubt thinking that I sold out because I've always hated the ones in New York City because I thought the horses were mistreated. But I'd already met with the horses and their trainers, and they are treated exceptionally well. I didn't feel like explaining any of this to Lilly, though.

Since Lana and Rachelle aren't in the bridal party, they aren't a part of the procession. Tina rides in one of the two carriages for the bridesmaids. Lilly is in it, too – she'll be riding with her parents. Not with Michael, though – he rides separately with his best man, this guy named Jeremiah Lee that he works with. His is the first carriage to arrive at the chapel; mine is the last.

That's when I realized Michael wasn't there.

"Wait, where's Michael?" I asked, interrupting someone.

Grandmère shot me a look. "Your beau had some emergency with that silly company of his."

I frowned, disappointed. I want to know how embarrassing I'd been last night.

Or maybe I don't.

Anyway, I patiently listened to this wedding nonsense until lunch was served. Grandmère was about to force me to eat, but Dad took pity on me and said if I didn't want to eat, I didn't have to. Although now I am beginning to think it was some kind of reverse psychology or something, because now my head barely hurts and I'm starving but dinner isn't until eight and the Royal Genovian Chefs are very staunch about no eating between meals.

So after the wedding talk I went back to Lana and Rachelle's room with Tina (Lilly stayed in her own room) to ask them what happened last night.

"You were so wasted!" Lana laughed shrilly. "I cannot believe how much you drank!"

"Yeah," said Rachelle, "but you were really tired."

God, why am I so lame?

"Did I say or do anything embarrassing?" I asked them. "I mean, besides ditching you guys for Michael's."

"You kept talking about wanting to smell his neck," Lana said and I felt my face burn. GOD, I can never drink again!

"And also about losing something," Tina chimed in.

"Losing what?" I asked, bewildered.

They all shrugged. "We have no idea."

That was, unfortunately, all I found out from them. I'm hiding out in the Royal Genovian Library, hoping that no one will find me here. It's nice and quiet.

I'm pretty sure I didn't lose anything last night. I mean, my clothes and everything that I wore last night have already been returned, washed and folded, care of one of the Royal Genovian Palace maids. I've already seen my wallet and used my cell phone today, so those are safe. What else could it –

OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD.

I JUST REMEMBERED.

I NEVER TOOK MICHAEL'S MOM'S EARRINGS OUT OF MY BAG FROM THE NIGHT HE GAVE THEM TO ME!

_**Sunday, July 17th, 4 p.m.  
><strong>__**Royal Genovian Bedchamber**_

That's it. I'm dead.

Why am I dead? Because there is no way Michael is going to marry me now. None. Nada. Not after I lost the diamond earrings that his mother gave to him to give to me to wear as my something old for my wedding.

This is quite possibly the WORST thing I have ever done. Seriously. The absolute worst. Worse than the time I freaked out at Michael for not telling me that he had sex with Judith Gershner. Worse than the time I dated J.P. even though I was still in love with Michael. Even worse than the time I made out with Michael while still dating J.P.

No, this tops ALL of that. I am the worst fiancé to ever walk this earth.

I can't BELIEVE I didn't take the earrings out of my bag. What is WRONG with me?

Not that I did it consciously, I just forgot! I know, that doesn't make it right, but after Michael gave them to me and I put them in my purse, I was so tired that I fell asleep right when I got back to my room and then the next day I was so excited about everyone coming that I just didn't even think about it!

OH MY GOD! Did I tell Michael about losing the earrings? Is that why I went to his place last night?

No. My blacked out drunk self couldn't be that stupid, could it?

Besides, we're clearly still planning this wedding, and if I'd told Michael about losing the earrings that definitely would have been called off.

What am I going to do! I know Michael's a boy and all, but he would TOTALLY notice if I showed up next to him at the altar wearing different earrings. And even if he was too much of a boy to notice, his mom so would!

Maybe I'll retrace our steps. Take Francois and go to every single restaurant/bar/club that we went to last night and see if they found any diamond earrings.

Oh yeah, that'll totally work. I am so sure. Because if anyone found a pair of beautiful diamond earrings, they would totally NOT TAKE THEM.

I know that, as a princess, I should have more faith in the morality of my people (even though I remember everything we did in Genovia, it's when we got into Italy that my memory goes blank) but COME ON. Unless it was found by some employee, people would totally take them for themselves.

Or… they SAW that it was me that lost them and are planning to auction the earrings off on eBay for millions of dollars.

WHAT AM I GOING TO DO?

I know what I have to do: avoid Michael at all costs. Because if I see him, I'll just start crying and confess and I can't do that because if and when he dumps me I will DIE because he is my one true love and my sole reason for existence.

Hey, I'm not just thinking of myself, here. If I die, then there will be no heir to the throne of Genovia (because Michael and I, unlike my parents, are CAREFUL) and the country will cease to exist as we know it. So, really, I am thinking of my countrymen and women in all of this.

HERE IS WHAT I HAVE TO DO:

1. Avoid Michael  
>2. Tell no one about missing earrings<br>3. Re-trace steps to find missing earrings/search online for identical pair/check eBay  
>4. Find way to stop televising of wedding (aside from cancelling said wedding)<br>5. Buy Fat Louie new chew toy  
>6. Go to wedding dress fitting<br>7. Make up with Lilly  
>8. Go to maid-of-honor fitting with Tina<br>9. Double-check that Grandmère did not get rid of vegetarian meal option  
>10. GET MARRIED! (hopefully)<p>

_**Sunday, July 17th, 11:30 p.m.  
><strong>__**Royal Genovian Bedchamber**_

Finally, something is going my way!

Well, kind of. It's not like I found the earrings or anything.

BUT Pavlov Surgical had some kind of emergency and Michael has to go to Portugal until Wednesday to deal with it, which buys me TWO AND A HALF WHOLE DAYS of avoidance from him so as not to spill the beans about the missing earrings. It also gives me time to find the earrings (as if I have the time).

I have it all figured out, though. With the wedding day rapidly approaching (SIX DAYS!) I am getting progressively busier. So, I decided that tomorrow, when I am lunching with the Pope that will be presiding over my wedding ceremony, as well as the chef who will be cooking dinner for my reception (make sure vegetarian option is still there!), the baker who is creating the wedding cake, Vigo, the head of the security team, and various other very important people who have a large role in making sure my wedding runs smoothly (yes, I fully do appreciate them all, I just can't remember all of them right now!), Francois will be retracing the steps that we took last night to see if anyone found a pair of diamond earrings.

Oh please, please, PLEASE FIND THEM!

Also, I was totally awkward when Michael called me a few hours ago to tell me that he had to go to Portugal. Synopsis of conversation below:

**Me:** Hello?

**Michael:** Hey Mia, it's me.

**Me:** Oh. Uh. Hello Michael. How are you?

**Michael:** Great, but something's happened.

**Me:** WHAT DO YOU MEAN?

**Michael:** Whoa, calm down. It's nothing bad, just something with Pavlov Surgical. I have to be in Portugal by tonight and won't be back until Wednesday.

**Me:** Oh. Pavlov Surgical. Right.

**Michael:** Mia, is everything okay?

**Me: **What? Everything's okay with me. Why do you ask? Are you okay? Is everything okay with you?

**Michael:** Okay. I'm just going to attribute your jumpiness to wedding stress. Are you sure you're okay?

**Me:** Wedding stress. Right. Because we're getting married in six days.

**Michael:** Is there something you want to tell me?

**Me:** GOD, JUST GET OFF MY CASE!

**Michael:** I can't wait for this wedding to be over so you can get back to normal again.

**Me:** Um.

**Michael:** Okay, well, I love you and I'll call you tomorrow.

**Me:** Um, that's okay, you don't have to call me. I'll just see you on Wednesday.

**Michael:** Uh… you sure?

**Me:** Of course I'm sure!

**Michael:** Um, okay then. Bye.

I suck at life, really.

I so almost told him, which is why I don't want him to call me again. Because if I tell him, he'll call off the wedding, but my plan is that if he doesn't find out until, like, Friday, he can't POSSIBLY call off the wedding because it'll be too late.

Good plan, right?

I just want it to be one week from now so this nightmare will be over.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Monday, July 18th, 3 p.m.  
><strong>__**Royal Genovian Bedchamber**_

Bad news: Lilly still hates me.

Worse news: Francois didn't find the earrings.

First things first. Lilly didn't show up for breakfast this morning and I was like, Tina, what the heck is going on? I didn't have a chance to talk to Lilly yesterday, on account of the fact that MY LIFE IS ENDING. So I didn't really think about the fight we'd gotten into on Saturday night and I guess I assumed that because I wasn't thinking about it, neither was Lilly.

So when Tina was like, "I think she's mad at you," I was pretty surprised, but I guess I shouldn't have been. I said some pretty mean things to her the other night and then I completely ignored her yesterday.

Sheesh, can't I catch a BREAK?

So then I was like, damnit, I still have to figure that out, but I have like ZERO TIME.

After my busy lunch with all the important wedding people, Francois came back to the castle and reported that his mission had failed.

Unfortunately my dad heard and was like, "What mission?"

But I pretended not to hear him.

Anyway, by about one o' clock my entire day was ruined. I figured I might as well talk to Lilly and straighten things out. Lilly is very stubborn, though, so things didn't go so well.

I knocked on her door when I knew Tina wasn't there (she was touring the gardens with Lana and Rachelle. Lilly didn't go because she's already seen them, and, according to Tina, she "will not support the efforts of the Genovian palace to stipulate its citizens to pay an atrocious amount of money just to look at some flowers." Um, HELLO, insulting much? First off, the gardens are HUGE and it cost a lot of money to construct and a lot of money to upkeep, so charging $10 for admittance is so not a terrible thing, and only like three of those dollars even make it to the Genovian family, so COME ON LILLY!).

When I knocked, though, she said all snappy, "Who is it?" and I was like, "Hey Lilly, it's me," and then she was like, "Go away."

I turned the knob on the door and – surprise – it wasn't locked, so I walked in. Lilly was sitting her bed, reading some book, the name of which I couldn't even read. That's because it was in Korean, which Lilly has started picking up since her show has become such a huge hit there. She says it's so she can connect better with her fanbase and prove to them that she is more relatable than other TV stars in Hollywood. I think that's a little silly, because I don't know how involved South Korea is with Hollywood and if they really have such judgmental opinions about famous people in America, and also because Lilly is hardly a TV star, but I would never, ever say this to her face.

"Look, Lilly, I just want to talk about what happened the other night," I said, sitting down on Tina's bed. I kind of thought she might lunge at me if I sat too close – like a tiger.

"Oh, now you want to talk," she sneered at me.

"I'm sorry," I said, trying to keep my cool. "I had a busy day yesterday."

"Yeah, being hungover," she said in a mean voice.

I sighed. "Yes, but my wedding is also in five days, so there's kind of a lot to do."

Lilly rolled her eyes. "It's not like you're planning it yourself, Mia. You've got hundreds of staffers doing it for you."

"Lilly, I wish you would stop being so mean," I said. "Look, why is it so hard for you to realize that being royal isn't always easy?"

"I know it's not," she said defensively. "But, come on, Mia, this wedding is totally out of your control."

"That's not true," I said. "I've had a lot of say. I picked the color scheme and even managed to get a vegetarian option added to the reception dinner."

"Oh wow," Lilly said, very sarcastically. "Mia, you should go into event planning. You did all that? In six months? I'm impressed. I guess all those people you had lunch with today are just around for show."

I flushed. "No," I said. "Look, I'll admit that a lot of the planning has been done by my grandmother and Vigo, but —"

"This isn't what you came to talk to me about," Lilly said snidely. "So why don't you just cut to the chase?"

God, she is just INSANE, is she not?

"I just don't want you to be mad at me anymore," I said, although at this point I hardly really cared. "I'm sorry I didn't ask you to be my maid-of-honor, but really, Lilly, you have to understand why."

Lilly stuck her nose way high in the air. I have never actually seen anyone do this before; it was always something I just read in books, so seeing it in person was bizarre.

"You're not forgiven," she said evenly.

"But why?"

"Because," she said, "you should have talked to me about it first. You should have asked me how I would feel if you asked Tina to be your maid-of-honor instead. But you didn't even consider how I might feel about it."

For anyone else, I totally would have seen her point. But I just couldn't with Lilly. "Um," I said, trying to keep my temper in check, "you've made it PERFECTLY clear how you feel about royal weddings."

"It's different," Lilly said harshly, "when the royal wedding involves Prince William, and when it involves you. Last time I checked, I haven't been best friends with Prince William since kindergarten."

I was so shocked I couldn't even speak. Part of me started to feel bad, because Lilly made an excellent point. Just because she boycotted another royal wedding, didn't necessarily mean she wanted to boycott mine, right? After all, Genovian citizens don't pay taxes (something very important to Lilly) and I am marrying her BROTHER.

But, on the other hand, she makes cracks about me being a royal anyway!

She is just so hard to read sometimes.

I decided I couldn't stay with her any longer, so I just left her room. That maybe have been bad and un-princess-like, but I was at such a loss that I just don't even know what to think. How is it that, with Lilly, she always makes it seems like I did the wrong thing and she did the right thing? Up until this conversation, I had fully maintained that I did nothing wrong in asking Tina to be my maid-of-honor, since Lilly has barely shown one iota of support for me in recent years. But leave it to Lilly to flip it around and make me feel bad.

Ugh. Why am I getting married again?

I was so distracted that I didn't even realize until I was right outside her door that I'd ended up at Grandmère's room. I don't normally seek out Grandmère to converse with outside of meals or forced royal duties, but I kind of felt like asking her opinion. I think secretly I wanted her to tell me I was right because she'd never really liked Lilly.

So I knocked on her door and she called, "Come in!" in French. I innocently pushed open the door…

… to see her sitting in a reclining, medical chair receiving BOTOX INJECTIONS!

I screamed so loudly that the doctor jumped – thank God he wasn't currently injecting her or things would have been very bad.

"Amelia!" Grandmère snapped, lifting her head slightly to glance at me. "What has gotten in to you? Since when does this frighten you?"

She had a point; I'd seen her receive Botox before. But normally on those occasions I was aware of what was going on. The way she'd told me to come in, I assumed she was doing something a normal grandmother would be doing, like reading a book, or knitting something for her only granddaughter as a present for said granddaughter's upcoming nuptials.

Oh, but wait. I forgot. I don't have a normal grandmother. MY grandmother gets Botox five days before my wedding. And is so casual about it that I nearly have a heart attack witnessing it.

"Sorry," I said, stepping hesitantly into the room. "I just didn't realize you were, uh… getting Botox."

Grandmère just made an impatient noise as she lay back down and prepared herself for another round of shots. "Amelia, you always act like there is something bothering you when I do this. You know, Botox really is not so bad."

Right, because getting shots in your face is so fun. "I just don't think you need it, Grandmère." Total lie.

"Pfuit!" is what she responded with. "Do you realize how many pictures are going to be taken of me on Saturday? Millions! I can't look like –"

"A grandmother?" I cut in.

If she hadn't been getting a shot at that very moment, she would have given me the evil eye. Instead, she settled by saying, "Why don't you get a few injections?"

"Grandmère, I don't have any wrinkles!" I told her. She should know this – she is the one that told me when I was in college that I should wear moisturizer every day with SPF 30 so that the sun doesn't give me premature wrinkles. This is one of the few things she's told me that I've listened to, because Rachelle told me it was true.

"It couldn't hurt," she said.

"Oh, yes it could," I snapped back. In fact, it would hurt a LOT. I cry when I get my yearly flu shot, and that's in my arm. Can you imagine how much it would hurt to get shots repeatedly IN MY FACE?

"Your lips could use a little plumping," she said airily.

I pressed my lips together tightly. "I DON'T THINK SO!" I practically screamed at her. Besides the fact that lip injections supposedly feel like your flesh is being burned off (Lana had them done once), I so do not want to look like Lisa Rinna post-plastic surgery with her lips practically taking up half her face. Besides, my face is not structured for big lips.

"Are you sure, princess?" the doctor asked me.

I completely ignored him. "Grandmère, I need to talk to you about something."

She sat up suddenly and stared at me, horrified. "You wrote about your wedding dress in that journal of yours and have now lost it." She looked like she was either going to kill me or herself, I couldn't tell. "I should have known – twenty-five years old and still as irresponsible as you were at fourteen –"

I took great offense to this. "Hey! I am NOT irresponsible!" Which is actually very true. I had to take on a lot of responsibilities when I was younger because my mom was kind of, um, forgetful.

Well… I'm responsible save for the fact that I lost the diamond earrings given to me by my fiancé's mother. "And for your information, NO, I have not written about my dress anywhere and I have most certainly not lost my journal. I want to talk to you about Lilly."

"Oy," Grandmère sighed. She rose out of the chair and sauntered over to her bed. "What now?"

I explained to her how Lilly is unrealistically angry at me for not choosing her to be my maid-of-honor and won't forgive me for it, despite never having seemed supportive of my royal status in previous years.

"That Lilly," Grandmère said as I finished. "No matter how much older she gets, she never stops being jealous of you."

"Jealous?" I scoffed. "Grandmère, as if."

"It's true," Grandmère said. "Lilly has always wanted to be in a position of power, to have some kind of outlet where she can enact change. But she is twenty-five years old and her only accomplishment so far is still hosting the same talk show from eleven years ago while desperately trying to work her way up the ladder of broadcast journalism in America."

Well. Grandmère certainly knows about the goings-on of Lilly much more than I realized.

"Yeah, but she's still young," I pointed out. "It's not like she can't still make it."

"That is beside the point, Amelia," Grandmère said impatiently. "At twenty-five, you have accomplished much more than Lilly, even though in high school you were so much less ambitious and motivated. Lilly, on the other hand, has strived for greatness for her entire life, and yet she still cannot seem to reach the level she wants to, while you have. You've received more than Lilly ever wanted, even though to her you don't seem to deserve it."

"Uh, all I did was get born," I said.

"Born into a position that Lilly would die for," Grandmère said wisely. Did old age make her more insightful or something? "Lilly has always been jealous of you."

"Okay," I said slowly. "Remind me what the heck this has to do with my wedding?"

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Grandmère said. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "Lilly wants to be in your wedding. Don't you see that her insults were not meant to hurt you, but were just said because she wished she was in your place? Lilly does not hate your royal status. And so, that is why it hurts her that you did not ask her to be your maid-of-honor."

My head was practically spinning after this conversation. Why does Lilly have to be so confusing? I mean, why can't she just be like "Wow, Mia, you're so lucky to be in a position where you can improve the state of people's lives and positively endorse change. If only I could ever manage to reach a similar position in my ninety or so years of life on this earth. But even if I don't, it's okay, because I'm happy for you and think that you will be able to rule over the Genovian populace superbly, even if I may be a teensy bit jealous."

No. She has to be all, "You're too rich. Royal weddings are narcissistic and exploitive" while secretly being like, "God, I am so envious, make me your maid-of-honor."

HELLO LILLY! THERE IS A COMMUNICATION PROBLEM GOING ON BETWEEN YOUR BRAIN AND YOUR MOUTH!

So anyway, after that I left because Grandmère was ready for another round of pain meds, meaning she was getting a bit grouchy – which, for Grandmère, means she was on the warpath and if I wanted to avoid getting hit in the head with a five-hundred-year-old lamp, I'd better skedaddle on out of there.

And now I have another problem on my hands. It turns out that Lilly isn't just being mean, she's actually HURT by what I did because she's JEALOUS of me! As if I am someone to be jealous of, but I digress. What do I do now? I can kinda see why I hurt her feelings, but it's too late to change anything. I mean, I could NEVER take back the role of maid-of-honor from Tina, NEVER! I would break her poor heart, which has already been ripped apart by Boris Pelkowski, and since then she has hastily repaired it with glue (regular glue, not even super glue), which means it is subject to be broken again by even the tiniest indiscretion (at least, that's what Tina told me when I once, very cautiously, asked why she hasn't dated anyone in the five years that she and Boris have been broken up).

Besides, I don't even want to take Tina's maid-of-honor title away. Is it MY fault that Lilly doesn't say what she thinks? Is it MY fault that I didn't realize that her boycotting a British royal wedding didn't necessarily mean that she would boycott mine (okay, how does that even make sense anyway?)? No, it's not. Tina, while kind of ditzy and idealistic, has NEVER been rude about me being a princess. She was there for me in my freshman year of high school when no one else was (not even Lilly) and she was always supported me in everything and looked over for my best interests. Plus, we've only gotten in one fight in eleven years of friendship (a couple years ago when she sent me a manuscript of a romance novel she wanted me to pass on to my publisher, but once I read it and found out that it was a total ANTI-ROMANCE story, in which the guy pretends to be a knight in shining armor and then kills his love interest at the end of the book, I totally could not send it on to my publisher and Tina was really mad), which is more than I can say for me and Lilly.

Besides, Tina has already been fitted for her maid-of-honor dress and has had her duties drilled into her that it's too late from even a practical standpoint to ask Lilly to do it instead.

But still. Lilly is, like, never going to forgive me for this! The only way that she would is if I kicked Tina to the curb and asked Lilly to take her place, which I would never do. Basically I am utterly clueless as to how to make this situation better.

Oh, by the way, did I mention that Michael's mom's diamond earrings are still completely MISSING?

Okay, WHO THE HECK is knocking on my door? I AM IN A MOMENT OF CRISIS RIGHT NOW!

_**Monday, July 18th, 11:30 p.m.  
><strong>__**Royal Genovian Bedchamber**_

I am more screwed now than I was seven hours ago.

Why?

BECAUSE MY DAD KNOWS ABOUT THE EARRINGS!

Oh yes.

The knocking at my door was, alas, my father. When I answered the door, red-faced, he took a step back and was like, "Whoa, Mia. What's wrong?"

"Um," I said, "I'm getting married in five days, Dad, am I not allowed to be a crazy stressed bride-to-be? There's a SHOW dedicated to people like me, you know!"

"You're not a Bridezilla, Mia," Dad said reasonably, stepping past me into my room.

I was getting super annoyed. Sure, Dad, just come into my room. No prob. My life isn't ending or anything.

"So, Mia," he said with fake casualty that aroused my suspicions at once. "I need to ask you something."

"Look, I know Lilly's mad at me," I exclaimed suddenly, "but I'm not going to not have Tina be my maid-of-honor, I could never do that to her! Lilly's just going to have to –"

"Mia, Mia," my dad interrupted me, looking irritated. Oh, sure, Dad, YOU looked irritated. I'm sure YOU'RE totally stressed about my upcoming wedding. Right. "What are you talking about?"

"Um," I said dumbly. I'd assumed he was coming to my room after speaking with Grandmère. "What are YOU talking about?"

"Where was Francois during lunch today?"

SHOOT! He noticed! And he TOTALLY heard Francois say that his mission had failed.

So I had to think fast.

After a few seconds, I was like, "I dunno."

OH MY GOD, REALLY? I COULDN'T HAVE THOUGHT OF AN ALIBI OF SOME KIND? No, I just said, "I dunno."

Dad narrowed his eyes at me. "Really?"

"Really, Dad. I have no idea where he was." I am an awful princess and employer.

"Well," he said, standing up. "In that case, I'm going to go have a word with him."

Then I freaked out. "Wait, where are you going?"

"To fire Francois," he said casually. "After all, his job is to protect you. I can't have your bodyguard skipping out for lunch dates, especially at this critical point in your life. Your highly publicized marriage is mere days away."

As if I wasn't critically aware of this.

But by this point, I was nearly hyperventilating. He was going to FIRE Francois! Because I'd sent him to locate the diamond earrings that I lost BECAUSE I'M AN IDIOT!

So I really had no other choice to catch him at the door and be like, "Francois wasn't at lunch because I lost my something old for the wedding and I made him retrace the steps I took the night I went out with Lana, Rachelle, Tina, and Lilly to find them."

Dad paused and looked at me strangely. "Your something old?"

"Michael gave me the diamond earrings his mom wore when she got married," I explained impatiently. "And I LOST THEM THE OTHER NIGHT."

Dad just said, "I know."

I stared at him for a very long moment. HE KNEW?

"Excuse me?"

"Francois told me when I asked him where he was."

"HE WHAT?" I yelped, quite irritated by this point. "Um, whatever happened to BODYGUARD-PRINCESS CONFIDENTIALITY?"

At this point I dearly missed Lars, who is currently serving as the Head of Security for Genovia for his stellar work as my bodyguard, and thus I have ended up with Francois. Lars totally covered for me all the time. He wouldn't tell my dad things like this.

I guess that's why he was promoted.

"Mia," Dad said, sitting back down on my bed. "Why is this such a big secret?"

I looked at him as if he was insane, which he is. "Dad, do you realize that if Michael found out that I lost his MOTHER'S DIAMOND EARRINGS, he would totally not marry me anymore? Do you want to risk shaming the Royal Genovian Family and subjecting me to a life of loneliness, during which I will never produce an heir and leaving the fate of Genovia in turmoil?"

Dad looked at ME as if I was crazy, which I'm so not. "Um, Mia, Michael's not going to call off the wedding because you lost of pair of earrings."

Oh Dad. So naïve. "Yes, he will."

"Really?" he said skeptically. "The man that you have been dating for eleven years, almost half of your life, is going to leave you forever because of a simple pair of diamond earrings that are easily replaceable?"

Well, when you put it that way…

"But they're not replaceable!" I wailed. "Michael's mom only wore one pair of earrings to her wedding, earrings that she has held onto for, like, thirty years, and a mere TWENTY-FOUR HOURS in my possession, and they are lost into the land of Italy! What does this say about me as a human being? That if Michael and I have a baby, I'm just going to LOSE IT?"

Dad was shaking his head. "Mia, you're not usually one to lose things. You made a mistake. Michael will understand."

"Easy for you to say, Dad," I retorted. "Mr. I-Don't-Do-Committed-Relationships."

Dad just sighed. "So when are you planning on telling Michael about the earrings?"

"NEVER!"

"Mia, you have to tell him."

"I most certainly do not."

"What's your plan, then?"

I shrugged. "Ideally I'll find the earrings. If not, maybe I'll catch the person who took them and is selling them on eBay. If worse comes to worse, though, I'll make sure my hair hides my ears at the wedding so Michael's mom doesn't notice."

Dad stared at me. "You think this will work?"

"It has to," I said, "or else no royal wedding, a lot of money wasted, and shame upon the Royal Genovian Family for all of eternity."

"Mia," Dad said, definitely sounding impatient now. "If you and Michael have such an open and honest relationship, then why don't you just tell him?"

Of course Michael and I have an open and honest relationship. But I am only open and honest with him over things that I know he won't dump me over.

I didn't answer Dad. Instead, I said, "Dad, you have to SWEAR that you won't tell ANYONE!"

"Mia, you're overre-"

"SWEAR!" I said. "Or else I'll tell Mom how she's the one who got away."

My dad totally regrets telling me this, because I always use it as blackmail for him. Narrowing his eyes at me, he said, "Fine. I won't tell a soul. But, I'm telling you, Mia, Michael will be more understanding than you think. Trust me."

Then he left. God, he is SO off the mark when it comes to relationships.

Thankfully Michael listened to me and did not call today. If he had, I probably would have just broken down.

One day of keeping the secret from him down. Four more to go.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Tuesday, July 19th, 4 p.m.  
><strong>__**Royal Genovian Sunroom**_

Seriously, who did I offend in the universe that has cursed me with such bad luck? I mean, really? Who, I ask you? What did I do to deserve all this?

Let's start at the beginning, shall we?

Early this morning, I went to my second to last wedding dress fitting at an abandoned warehouse in France (sounds sketchy, doesn't it?). All of my wedding dress fittings have been there, because Grandmère says we can't risk actually going to the designer's offices or else people will find out about it.

A lot of thought has been put into this.

So, anyway, my fitting went great and then Tina came in for hers. Since not even Tina knows who the designer is, she was fitted by an assistant. This is also her first fitting – she went to a bridal store in Sacramento and had her measurements sent to Genovia for her dress.

Tina's dress is a beautiful, soft pink gown (hey, Grandmère never said anything about how I couldn't write about the bridesmaids and maid-of-honor dresses!). It's different from the bridesmaids' dresses, which are pale yellow. Tina started crying when she put on her dress which, like I said before, it quite common with her.

The dress really did look beautiful on her. Tina's a little big, but she totally didn't look it in the dress. The designer really did an amazing job with it. Tina said she had never, ever worn a dress so beautiful before in her life and she thanked me, like, a million times, as if I'd designed myself.

Then she made a comment about how all the hot young European men at my wedding were going to see her in this and totally fall in love with her.

Then I realized that Tina totally hadn't made any mention of how her ex, Boris Pelkowski, was going to be at the wedding. I'm PRETTY SURE I'd told her about it, but it just occurred to me at that moment that Tina hadn't made one comment about it, so then I kind of freaked out because I thought she forgot.

So, when she had changed back into her normal clothes and Grandmère was talking to the designer's assistant, I pulled Tina aside and was like, "Um, Tina… do you remember when I told you that Boris is going to be at the wedding?"

Tina turned white as a ghost and looked like she was either going to die or throw up. She was all, "Wh-what?"

"Tina, I told you!" I said. "I swear I told you. Remember, you asked me who from high school was coming, and I said you, Lilly, Lana Weinberger, Kenneth Showalter, and Boris Pelkowski!"

"No, you didn't!" she squeaked. "Mia… is he going to be at the reception, too, or just the ceremony?"

"Um…" I said, because I didn't WANT to tell her, because I knew it would make her cry, but I guess she didn't need me to answer, because she sort of started to cry again.

"Do you, uh…" she stammered, "know if he's bringing a date?"

As if I would know this information. I only know the people that RSVP'd yes (basically everyone invited), not if they were bringing a plus-one. I don't even know if my guests are allowed a plus-one. "I don't think so," I assured Tina.

It wasn't an outright lie!

Besides, knowing Boris Pelkowski, with the whole sweater-tucking-into-pants thing, he's probably not.

On second thought…

Boris had a girlfriend, like, ALL THROUGH HIGH SCHOOL. Seriously. He and Lilly started dating at the beginning of freshman year and, like, two days after they broke up he dated Tina for five years. Plus, he got way hot throughout high school and now he's a famous musician in Russia, so maybe the ladies are all over him.

Plus, the sweater-tucking-into-pants thing is apparently big in Russia, so I guess he doesn't even have that going against him anymore.

Shoot. I hope he's not bringing a date.

Whatever; even if he is, his jaw will totally hit the floor when he sees Tina. Seriously, her dress is HOT.

Tina barely spoke the rest of the time until we got back to the palace, where she locked herself up in her room. Now Tina's mad at me, too.

I really cannot catch a break.

Francois thinks I'm overreacting. He says that I'm blowing everything out of proportion. Gosh, he so does not get it.

I told him that he has no right to say anything to me, since he violated the princess-bodyguard confidentiality agreement, to which he responded that there is no such thing and that he doesn't answer to me, to answers to my father, since my father is the crown prince and I am just the heir, thus it is my dad that pays his salary. Then I told him that you don't get to be head of the Royal Genovian Security team (like Lars is) if you violate such conditions, and instead of answering me, he just started adjusting his Rolex watch.

My bodyguard has a Rolex watch and I just have a Cartier. Something's wrong here. Maybe the Rolex was a gift from my dad for snitching on me.

_**Tuesday, July 19th, 11:30 p.m.  
><strong>__**Royal Genovian Bedchamber**_

Tina didn't come to dinner tonight.

I asked Lilly what was up, even though I don't really know if we're talking, and Lilly told me (not even in a rude way!) that Tina had been crying all day and refused to come to eat.

"Well," Grandmère huffed, apparently overhearing us, "if she stops eating, she won't fit into her dress anymore!"

"Grandmère," I said irritably. As if that is the most important issue at hand. "Did she, um, say why?" I asked Lilly, even though I totally knew why.

Apparently Lilly knew too. She gave me a Look and said, "I guess I'm not the only person you've screwed over in this little wedding of yours, am I?"

Boy, did that hurt.

Luckily no one heard, not even Francois, so he couldn't beat her up or anything.

"Do you think she'll let me talk to her?" I asked.

Lilly just shrugged.

"Look, Lilly, I totally told her about Boris!" I cried. "I really did! She must've forgotten, or—"

"Mia, I'm not taking sides," Lilly said dispassionately. I almost laughed. Yeah, okay, Lilly. I am so sure. "Maybe she'll talk to you, maybe she won't."

Wow, that was so helpful, Lilly. Thanks a lot.

So after dinner I came back here because I was exhausted from wedding dress fittings and the fact that all my friends hate me and that Michael is going to dump me if he ever finds out about me losing his mom's earrings, which actually might happen since my dad figured it out and even though he promised not to say anything, he totally might because he did not seem to understand that gravity of the situation.

Then, I was like, okay Mia, you're a big girl now. You're a twenty-five-year-old college graduate princess – you can TOTALLY deal with this! I was lying to myself, of course, but in this moment of self motivation, I got up, marched across the hallway, and knocked three times on Lilly and Tina's door.

Lilly answered and looked at me, very pretentiously. "Sorry, Mia," she said snootily. "No one in this room wants to see you."

"Wait, it's Mia?" Tina wailed from inside. "I wanna see her!"

Lilly looked very annoyed as she begrudgingly stepped aside to let me in. Tina was sitting on her bed, her eyes red from crying, clutching one of her pillows. She looked awful.

"Tina!" I cried, shocked.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Mia…" she moaned. "I know that this is supposed to be the happiest time of your life, but I'm so… so…" She hiccupped.

"I know," I said, sitting down at the foot of her bed. I can't even imagine if this was supposed to be one of the happiest times in my life. If that's true, then the rest of my life is going to be absolutely horrible.

"But Tina," I said, "remember how AMAZING you looked in that dress today?"

"Well… y-yes," she stammered.

"Then why are you so upset? When Boris sees you in that dress, he's going to SO regret breaking up with you. AND I'm positive that every single guy there between the ages of twenty and forty will be, like, all over you. Seriously. You're going to look amazing."

Tina looked up at her, her eyes all glossy and she sniffed. "Even Prince Harry?"

"Totally." Unfortunately Tina does not know that Prince Harry secretly eloped with his girlfriend Chelsy Davy three months ago, but I'll just pretend like I didn't know either.

"You really think so, Mia?" Tina asked, sitting up straight.

"I do," I said firmly. "Tina, you're the maid-of-honor! You should be excited! It's gonna be an amazing day for you. You'll get to go through the whole town of Genovia on a horse-driven carriage with Princess Catherine" – TO DO: MAKE SURE TINA IS SHARING A CARRIAGE WITH CATHERINE! – "walk down the aisle in front of Neil Patrick Harris, Victoria and David Beckham, Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt, Leonardo DiCaprio, and George Clooney and his current Swiss girlfriend, looking like the hottest girl in the world."

Tina was smiling very slightly; then she said without much conviction, "No, Mia, you'll be the hottest girl there."

"And then," I continued, "after the way boring ceremony, we'll go to the reception, where there will be, like, 500 people, which means 250 of them will be men and between 50 and 100 of them will be single, and there will be a DJ and an open bar – seriously, Tina, this is gonna be, like, the best night ever for you."

She looked considerably more cheerful after that. "I guess you're right," she said, no longer crying. "There'll be so many people there anyway that I probably won't even see Boris at all."

"Exactly!"

Seriously, cheering up Tina is like cheering up an eight-year-old.

After a little bit more talking, I got up to leave and Lilly was giving me a Look. She seems to be giving me those a lot lately. But when I asked her what was wrong, she just said nothing and went into the bathroom.

Whatever, Lilly. At least I made things right with one wedding guest.

_**Wednesday, July 20th, 12 a.m.  
><strong>__**My bed**_

Now Fat Louie is purring so loudly that I can't sleep. Maybe he's trying to tell me something. Maybe he knows that I'm getting married and he's jealous and doesn't want to have to share a bed with both Michael and me on a regular basis.

_**More Wednesday, 12:10 a.m.**_

Gosh, no one is on my side! WHY? WHAT HAVE I EVER DONE TO DESERVE THIS?

PLEASE, LOUIE, I AM SO TIRED! I JUST WANT TO SLEEP!

As if I don't have twelve million things to do before Saturday.

THIS IS WHAT I HAVE TO DO BEFORE SATURDAY:

1. Make Lilly forgive me  
>2. Spend time with MomMr. G/Rocky (I've totally been neglecting them in my crisis mode!)  
>3. Go to final wedding dress(es) fitting on Friday – yes, I have two wedding dresses, Lilly will kill me when she finds outGrandmère will kill me if she finds out I wrote it down  
>4. Attend final dress rehearsal<br>5. Buy Fat Louie that new chew toy (the legs on my dresser are practically gone!)  
>6. Make sure Grandmère gets no more plastic surgery before wedding so she doesn't end up looking like the Cat Lady<br>7. Start writing thank-you cards  
>8. Greet out-of-town guests on Friday<br>9. Make sure Dad hasn't told anyone about the missing earrings!  
>10. FIND IDENTICAL EARRINGSTELL MICHAEL THE TRUTH? (As if)

So, PLEASE LOUIE, I BEG OF YOU, LET ME SLEEP!

_**Wednesday, July 20th, 3 p.m.  
><strong>__**Royal Genovian Sunroom**_

So today, Mom came into my room bright and early and told me that she and I were going to go to a spa day together. She said that she was upset that she had barely seen me all week and that since her only daughter is getting married, she wants to spend some time with me and is not going to let my royal wedding duties get in her way.

I wonder what she had to go through with Dad to get me out of my duties today. Whatever, I so don't care, I was just SO happy to get out of that palace and away from Lilly and Tina and Grandmère and my dad and the knowledge that I lost Michael's mom's earrings. Except, of course, I totally thought about that the whole time.

Also, I didn't fall asleep until, like, 3 a.m. last night. After freaking out about Fat Louie's purring for, like, an hour, I un-tired myself and just lay in bed counting sheep up to a thousand and then backwards again.

Here's a tip: it doesn't work.

But the spa day was nice, because I let myself fall asleep during my facial and again during my massage.

Afterwards it wasn't so nice, though.

Mom took me out to a late lunch and was telling me how much fun Rocky has been having at the castle (there's a lot for a little kid to do: indoor swimming pool, bowling alley, laser tag arena – apparently Rocky and Mr. G played laser tag all day yesterday, with Mr. G winning 14 of 15 games. Come on, Mr. G, let your son win a little!), when she not-so-subtly was like, "So. Your dad says you've been having a difficult time."

So I said very casually, "WHAT DID HE SAY?"

We were sitting in the middle of a café in Genovia, with Francois at a table near us; the other patrons looked rather surprised that their princess was screaming during lunch. Mom glanced around and then said to me, "Um. Nothing specific. Mia, is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine, Mom!" I said. She continued staring at me so I caved a little and said, "It's just that Tina's sad that Boris Pelkowski is going to be at the wedding and reception and Lilly's mad that I didn't ask her to be my maid-of-honor."

Mom sighed. "Oh, Mia. You know you can't please everyone. I hope you're not beating yourself up over this…"

"Don't worry, Mom, I'm not." I am such a good liar it's disgusting. "It's just all this wedding stuff. It's stressful, you know. It's such a huge deal and there's gonna be thousands of people there and millions watching it on TV. It's enough to get anyone a little nuts." I am also very diplomatic – princess training has done me well.

Mom nodded. "So you're not getting… cold feet, are you?"

"WHAT? UH, NO MOM!" I cried, horrified. "Geez, I thought you loved Michael! How could you even SAY such a thing?"

"Mia!" my mom said in the warning-voice that she hasn't used on me since I was, like, eight, after which I matched her level of responsible-ness. "Stop yelling. Cold feet is completely normal right before your wedding."

"Did _you_ have cold feet?" I asked, accusatory.

"Well," said Mom, "no. But that was different."

"Why? Because you were pregnant?"

She glared at me. "No. Frank and I got married in Mexico, not in a thousand year old chapel in front of the whole world. If we had, I probably would've run away screaming. Oh, wait, I did run away screaming from something like that – your father!" she added sarcastically.

I ignored that. "No, Mom. I am not freaking out. Well, I mean, maybe a little, but I'm not getting cold feet about Michael. He is the one constant in my life, the one person that I can rely on. There is no other for me and I cannot wait to make him my husband."

Mom just shook her head but she was smiling. "You talk the same way you did at fourteen. How did I not foresee your future career as a romance novelist?"

"Part time career," I corrected her. Well, it's true. I haven't worked on my newest novel in almost two months.

"You're sure that's all that's going on?" she prodded again right before we left to go back to the palace.

"Of course I'm sure, Mom," I lied wonderfully. "Really, everything's fine."

Well, I couldn't very well tell her that a wedding might not take place if Michael ever finds out my secret, could I? She wouldn't be so happy about spending a week in Genovia for nothing.

So now I'm in the sunroom. It's the only place I can get away from the craziness of wedding planning, since Grandmère hates it in here because it's "too sunny." Also Fat Louie is driving me crazy with his constant mewing. Seriously, like he's not spoiled rotten. He has more toys than any other cat in the world. He should be appreciative of all that I buy for him, as well as how well I take care of him, seeing as how he's NINETEEN!

But I probably should go up to my room. We're having dinner tonight with the Royal Genovian Security team, who will be responsible for making sure no one shoots me or jumps into my carriage to cut off a piece of my wedding dress to sell online or climbs onto my carriage horse to get it to ride off to freedom or something. They are very important people, naturally, because I definitely don't want any of those things to happen.

Plus, Lars will be there!

Note to self: have Lars speak to Francois about the importance of bodyguard-to-princess confidentiality.

_**Later on Wednesday, 5 p.m.  
><strong>__**Royal Genovian Bedchamber**_

I wish I wasn't the worst fiancé ever. It's not a good feeling to know that you're going to HELL when you die.

Why am I the worst fiancé ever? Oh, you know, because I totally FORGOT Michael was coming back from Portugal today and when I got to my room, he was sitting on my bed playing with Fat Louie (he bought him a new chew toy! HE'S SO AMAZING!) with a bouquet of red, pink, and white roses sitting in a vase on my bedside table.

"Hey you," Michael said when I walked in, coming up to me and kissing me. "I missed you."

"I missed you, too!" I practically squeaked.

HOW COULD I FORGET THE DAY HE WAS COMING BACK?

More importantly, I DIDN'T SOLVE MY EARRINGS PROBLEM!

Naturally, I couldn't be around Michael. I made small talk, asking him about the medical emergency in Portugal and if it all went smoothly, and then said, "Well, I'd better start getting ready for dinner."

"Wait, wait," Michael protested, pulling me onto my bed with him. "I've missed you, Mia…" He started kissing me then, with his hands wandering and I totally wanted to succumb to what he was hinting at.

Which was, you know, sex. It's been kind of busy the last few weeks and I've been seriously deprived!

But I knew I couldn't. I have a habit of telling Michael things after we have sex that I normally wouldn't. Like the time I accidently told him that a prince from Asia had tried to seduce me at a ball one time while Michael was in the bathroom, or when I told him that Grandmère's French businessman friend had actually said to me in front of Michael (in French, of course) that he thought Michael looked like an inexperienced hooligan, not a respectable entrepreneur like I'd told Michael he said.

So as much as I WANTED to make love to my future husband in the middle of the afternoon three days before our wedding, I COULDN'T. I can just imagine us cuddling afterwards and me being like, "Hey, funny story, bro. Remember those earrings you gave me? They're in an Italian pub somewhere. But I can't wait to bear your children!"

And that is why I peeled Michael off of me and told him that I just couldn't right now, but I told him to think about how nice it will be on our wedding night, since we've been so deprived recently.

He just stared at me and said, "I have to wait until the wedding night now?"

"Well," I said, "I sort of have no time. I don't know if you're aware, but there's this huge internationally publicized state of affair happening on Saturday, and the event happens to be our wedding."

"Oh, that thing," Michael said. "I'd forgotten. I guess I have to show up for that, huh?"

"Yeah, kind of. Your non-attendance would cause a stir."

"I'll have to cancel that golf game I scheduled." He winked at me, then stood up and was about to leave, but then he turned around and said, "Mia, is everything okay?"

"WHY DOES EVERYONE KEEP ASKING ME THAT?" I shouted.

Michael jumped and was like, "Um, calm down!" He sat me back down on my bed and said, "Well, it's just that, a week ago you were freaking out about the whole internationally-publicized-wedding thing, and with it only three days away now, I want to make sure you're okay."

"Oh, I'm fine," I said, very sarcastically. "Just fine. Except for the fact that your sister hates me because I was supposed to somehow see through her excessive diatribes against royal families everywhere and constant criticism of me as a princess and realize that she actually WANTS to be my maid-of-honor, and the fact that Tina blocked out the information that Boris Pelkowski is coming to our wedding out of trauma and just re-found out yesterday and she spent the whole day crying, and the fact that I walked in on my grandmother getting Botox injections, and, oh, did I mention the fact that I lost – um, I mean, TWO BILLION PEOPLE ARE GOING TO WATCH MY WEDDING ON SATURDAY?"

I ALMOST TOLD HIM!

Michael was kind of shocked after my outburst. "Well," he said finally. "A lot has happened since I left. What's this about my sister?"

I explained to him what happened the night we went out and our following conversations on the subject. "No one's ever happy with me," I said irritably. "I always do something wrong. You know, my duties are to the GENOVIAN PEOPLE, not to LILLY AND TINA! If I disappoint them, they should be like, whatever, Mia has to worry about the well-being of 50,000 people so she gets a pass."

"Calm down," Michael said, but he was laughing.

"Why the heck are you laughing?" I snapped. "Nothing here is funny."

"Okay, maybe not," he said, but I could totally tell he was holding back a smile, "but you're overreacting. If Lilly cares so much about this maid-of-honor thing, so what? It's not your problem and in a week she'll forget all about."

EASY FOR YOU TO SAY, MICHAEL!

But I so did not feel like talking to him about any of this.

"Whatever, Michael," I said. "You'll understand in a few days when suddenly you're a prince. I promise I'll tell you I told you so."

He rolled his eyes and kissed me. "I'll see you bright and early tomorrow morning, okay?"

"Sure. But, uh, eight-thirty is not that bright and early, Michael…"

"Well, yes," he said, staring at me, "but before breakfast we're picking my parents up from the airport, remember?"

Oh. Yes.

Michael's parents.

WHAT AM I GOING TO DO ABOUT MICHAEL'S PARENTS?

WHAT IF HIS MOM WANTS TO SEE THE EARRINGS THAT SHE HAD HER SON GIVE ME?

WHAT WILL I SAY? Oh, sorry, Dr. Moscovitz, those earrings are floating around the Black Market of Italy right now, but thanks for the gesture, anyway! I guess maybe you should've given them to Lilly, huh?

NO, I CANNOT SAY THAT! THEN MICHAEL AND HIS MOM WILL _BOTH_ CANCEL THE WEDDING!

All of this went through my mind in .5 seconds, after which I squeaked, "Sure. Right. I'll meet you at the airport tomorrow morning."

Then he left and I died.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Thursday, July 21st, 2 p.m.  
><strong>__**Royal Genovian Sunroom**_

The Drs. Moscovitz have arrived. They are the first of roughly 2,000 guests to have arrived. All my time spent between now and my wedding will revolve around me greeting all these people.

I might just not survive.

Michael, Lilly, and I were at the Royal Genovian Airport to pick up his parents this morning and I was so nervous that Dr. Moscovitz was going to ask to see the earrings. I almost didn't show up, but that would've been very un-princess-like of me to blow off my future in-laws.

As if I haven't already been un-princess-like in losing a pair of priceless diamond earrings, but whatever.

Luckily, Dr. Moscovitz did NOT ask about the earrings and instead said, after she hugged me, "Mia, I read an article about this wedding in PEOPLE magazine. I'm going to need your royal designers to look at my dress and make sure it's flattering on me – all of my patients will be watching and I need to make sure I don't look fat!"

Lilly looked really annoyed.

So then we returned to the palace and ate breakfast with Mom, Dad, Mr. G, Rocky, Grandmere, Vigo, and Francois, after which I returned to the airport to greet Mamaw and Papaw – whom I also forgot were coming today.

Mamaw and Papaw also came with my mom's sister, Marie, whom I'm pretty sure I've only met once. Marie is a Republican so she and my mom don't get along. In tow with Marie was her husband, Beau Mayfield, a man she met in Texas at a Michele Bachmann convention. I view him as Marie's new husband, but they've been married for, like, seven years now, so I guess he's not really new.

Hank was also there, my hick cousin from Indiana who, when we were fourteen, was taken under the wing of Lilly Moscovitz to help him reach his dream of becoming an underwear model. He had a successful career for about five years, after which his addictions to cocaine and heroin put a halt to his career. He's been to rehab eight times and I believe right now he's sober.

At least, I hope so.

Anyway, Michael, my mom, Rocky, Mr. G, and I went to the airport to pick them up. I thought my mom was going to hurl, because she doesn't like her family. She's been forced to see her parents more than she would like, what with me becoming a princess and everything, so she's getting better at dealing with them. But she hasn't seen Marie since I was, like, five or something, and she's never met Marie's new ultra-conservative husband.

"It's okay," Mr. G kept whispering in her ear, which was cute in a weird way.

They stepped off the plane separately from the rest of the passengers, since they got to just walk right off the plane and onto the ground instead of going through the gate (some perks of royalty, I guess).

"Oh, Mia!" Mamaw cried when she saw us. She was wearing a bright yellow tracksuit with the word REBEL across the butt. She gave me a huge hug and said, "I'm so excited for this wedding of yours! Is it really going to be in a chapel?"

"Um," I said, bemused. "Yes, Mamaw."

"Oh, a real chapel!" she squealed. "Good thing I brought my fancy dress!"

I hugged Papaw, who I was afraid might just crumble in my arms. "I brought my nice suit, too," he boasted. "It's tweed."

"Mother," Mom said, all annoyed, "you've been to royal balls before. You realize it's a fancy event, right?"

"Well, of course I do!" Mamaw exclaimed. "But it's different when the wedding is in a CHAPEL!"

I put a hand on my mom's shoulder, hopefully indicating to her to not even bother delving into the mind that is Mamaw.

I then hugged Marie. She was all, "Mia, it's so good to see you," as if it hasn't been twenty years and I barely remember her. "When I found out you were a princess, I was so shocked." Um, old news, Marie. That was eleven years ago. "But it's been so convenient as well, because I'm able to easily keep up with what's going on with you!"

What she meant was: I don't want to call you, so instead I can just read about you in the tabloids. Thanks, Aunt Marie.

Then I held out my hand to shake Beau Mayfield's, but he instead hugged me. "It's a real pleasure to be meetin' royalty!" Beau crooned. "Marie told me that the Gee-lovian princess was her niece, but I didn't believe her until we got the invitation in the mail!"

All I said was, "It's Genovia."

Then I turned to Hank. He looked about forty. "Hank, it's nice to see you."

His face was all gaunt. "Thanks for the invitation, Mia." He said it somewhat sadly. "I don't get invited to many parties anymore… it's as if the celebrity world has forgotten about me…"

"Well," I said. "It is my pleasure."

After that delightful encounter, I showed them around the palace and by then it was time for lunch. I was so tired that I just wanted to collapse. I forgot how exhausting it is to entertain guests. And there's going to be TWO THOUSAND OF THEM AT MY WEDDING!

At least they're not all staying in the palace.

Tomorrow, Grandmère's sister, Tante Jean Marie, will be arriving. She used to live in France, but she eloped in Russia a few years ago, "bringing shame to the Royal Genovian Family," according to Grandmère. Please, like anyone cared. It's not like Grandmère was royal before marrying Grandpère, so no one cares about Tante Jean Marie's shenanigans. Besides, Grandmère will so not care about the shame of Tante Jean Marie if Michael dumps me over diamond earrings.

Also tomorrow, Mr. G's family arrives. Yes, that right, Mr. G's family was even invited. From what I hear, they're very excited. Mr. Gianini senior, Mrs. Gianini, Julie (Mr. G's sister), Mark (Mr. G's brother-in-law), and Nathan and Claire (Julie and Mark's children) will be flying into the Royal Genovian Airport around eleven tomorrow morning. Can't wait for that.

I haven't seen Mr. G's family that often. Mom and Mr. G go to his parents' house for Thanksgiving every year, so I saw them once a year all through high school. But when I was in college, I started going to Michael's family for Thanksgiving, partially because I love him but also because I don't really like Mr. G's family. His parents are nice enough, and so are his sister and brother-in-law, but Nathan and Claire aren't the most pleasant of company to be around.

So the last time I saw Mr. G's family was when I was seventeen. Mr. G brought me up to speed earlier on what Claire and Nathan have been up to – Nathan went to Suffolk County Coummunity College for about five years, earning his AA in something, and now he works at a record store. Claire went to the University of Delaware, which I hear is a pretty big party school. After she graduated she got a job in New York City writing for one of the best fashion magazines in the world. Apparently she's also supposed to be covering my wedding. According to Mr. G, she keeps asking who is designing my wedding dress. She wants to be the first to break the news.

Great. Something else for me to stress about. My step-cousin berating me for the designer of my dress.

Michael's grandparents (all four of them) are also coming tomorrow.

Just thinking about all this makes me want to pass out.

_**Later on Thursday, 8 p.m.  
><strong>__**Royal Genovian Hallway**_

I am the worst human being on the planet. Old news, yes, but it just got worse.

During dinner with my family and Michael's, Dr. Moscovitz pulled me aside and said, "Mia, I just want you to know that I'm so honored about being included in this wedding."

"Well," I said, "you _are_ Michael's parents. It would be rather rude of me to not include you."

"No, not that," she said. "Mia, I've always thought of you as a second daughter and Lilly's always thought of you as the sister she never had. We're both thrilled that you are finally going to be an official part of this family." Ha. Yeah, sure, Dr. Moscovitz, I'm sure Lilly is OVER THE MOON. "And I'm so glad that you are wearing the earrings that I wore to my wedding as your something old. It really means a lot to me."

THIS IS WHY I'M THE WORST PERSON EVER.

I should have just told her right there. I really should have. I should've been like, "Look, Dr. Moscovitz, I'm really sorry, but last weekend your daughter made me so upset that I got so drunk that I blacked out and somehow lost those beautiful diamond earrings that you entrusted in my care."

But no. This is what I said instead.

"You're welcome, Dr. Moscovitz. I'm honored to wear your earrings."

WHY DID I SAY THAT? PLEASE, TELL ME, WHY DID I SAY THAT?

I have to go now. We're discussing more wedding details in the Royal Genovian Dining Hall. I just slipped out here to get this down so that I never forget why I'm going to hell.

_**Friday, July22nd, 1 a.m.  
><strong>__**Royal Genovian Bed**_

I don't know what to do. I have to tell Michael.

Don't I?

I mean, I'm LYING to my fiancé! Isn't that worse than losing a gift? LYING about it?

How can I claim that Michael and I have such a strong and honest relationship if I'm LYING TO HIM ABOUT SOMETHING SO HUGE LIKE THIS?

I don't know if I can tell him. What if he DOES dump me? I will embarrass the entire Royal Genovian Family. And not just embarrass – all the royals in the world will remember this until the world ends. Two thousand years from now, the King of England will be telling his grandchildren a story about the crazy Princess of Genovia who got dumped the day before her wedding was due to be broadcasted to a third of the world. The children will laugh and say, "Wow, how pathetic! And what happened to her after?" and the King of England will say, "She lived a lonely, spinster life for the rest of her days, and her family was so ashamed of her that after her father abdicated the throne, it was instead passed to Sebastiano, who was a fashion designer, and that's why Genovia now is just one big designer clothing manufacturer." And the children will "oooh" and "aaah" because it all makes sense to them now.

I CAN'T LET THAT HAPPEN!

But what if I never tell Michael and I somehow am able to get through the wedding without him or his mother noticing the earrings are different, and then after we consummate our marriage, I'm like, "So, funny story…" and I TELL HIM and then he FILES FOR DIVORCE THE DAY AFTER WE GET MARRIED?

Which is worse? I don't know.

I can't sleep. I've been lying in my bed for the last two hours and even though I woke up really early this morning, I can't sleep. I'm such a bad person. I know I'm doing everything wrong. But I just don't know what to do.

Maybe I don't deserve to be marrying Michael.

_**More Friday, 1:30 a.m.**_

Okay, come on, I so deserve Michael. We're perfect for each other.

EXCEPT FOR THE FACT THAT I LIE TO HIM!

What am I going to do?

_**More Friday, 1:35 a.m.**_

That's it, I've made my decision.

I'm going to tell him tomorrow.

_**Still Friday, 2 a.m.**_

Okay, WHEN AM I GOING TO TELL HIM?

I have zero time tomorrow. This is my schedule:

_7 a.m. – 8 a.m.  
><em>_Greet families of Frank Gianini, Michael Moscovitz and Clarisse Renaldo at Royal Genovian Airport._

_8 a.m. – 9 a.m.  
><em>_Breakfast with Bride and Groom's families and Royal Genovian Event Planner._

_9 a.m. – 10:30 a.m.  
><em>_Tour of Royal Genovian Palace for the families of Frank Gianini, Michael Moscovitz, and Clarisse Renaldo._

_10:30 a.m. – 12 p.m.  
><em>_Teeth bleaching and facial scrub appointment._

_12 p.m. – 1 p.m.  
><em>_Lunch with bridesmaids and their families._

_1 p.m. – 5 p.m.  
><em>_Greet out-of-town wedding guests at Genovian hotels._

_5 p.m. – 6 p.m.  
><em>_Final dress fittings for bride, maid-of-honor, and bridesmaids._

_6:30 p.m. – 7:30 p.m.  
><em>_Final wedding rehearsal._

_8 p.m. – 11 p.m.  
><em>_Rehearsal dinner. Guests include: bride and groom's families, wedding party, esteemed royals, and guests of honor._

"Guests of honor" is code for Grandmère's friends, like very famous people.

Well, I guess Lana and Rachelle are included in that, which is nice.

But still.

WHEN THE HECK AM I GOING TO TELL MICHAEL ABOUT THE EARRINGS? While I'm giving a tour palace for his grandparents? While we're greeting some of the many wedding guests that have flown in from all over the world (like Boris Pelkowski and Kenneth Showalter)? While we're up at the altar during the rehearsal?

WHAT AM I GOING TO DO?

_**More Friday, 11:30 a.m.  
><strong>__**Royal Genovian Sunroom**_

My appointment ended early. And I SWEAR I tried to find Michael to tell him, since this is probably my only chance, but I CAN'T FIND HIM!

According to Vigo, he's having his last tuxedo fitting right now.

Great. Just great.

So not only can I not find Michael during a time of UTMOST IMPORTANCE, my teeth are really sensitive because I just got them bleached which means it'll be difficult for me to eat but I'm really hungry so I don't know what to do.

The countdown is on:

29 ½ hours until my wedding.

_**More Friday, 1 p.m.  
><strong>__**Limo on the way to Genovian hotel**_

Forgot to mention this earlier:

While I was giving the palace tour to Michael's grandparents, Mr. G's family, and Tante Jean Marie and her Russian husband, Igor Mihailov, Claire (Mr. G's niece) came up to me as we were walking and was all, "So, Mia."

I totally knew what was coming.

"As you know," she said, "I am currently the youngest writer for Posture magazine."

"Mhm," I said.

"As you also know," she continued, "I am not just here as a guest. I am also here to cover your wedding and write an article about it for Posture magazine, focusing specifically on the fashion worn by you, the wedding party, and your guests."

"Okay."

"I was just wondering," she said, "if you could do your dear cousin a favor."

Dear cousin? Um, try step-cousin whom I haven't seen in nearly eight years.

"It would mean a lot," she said, "if you could give my magazine, Posture magazine, the exclusive on your wedding dress." When I didn't say anything, she continued, "You know, the designer, the style, all that."

"I see," I said. "I might consider it, but the only problem is that if I did, there would be no wedding because my grandmother would kill me."

"Oh, I'm sure she would understand!" laughed Claire. "After all, it would be for Posture magazine, one of the most esteemed and respected fashion magazines in the world."

"Right," I said. "Still, I don't know…"

"Well," Claire said, taking something out of her pocket and handing it to me. "Here's my card if you change your mind."

Her card? Really? As if she'll be so hard to find since she's ATTENDING MY WEDDING.

Right before she walked away, I said, "Claire, which magazine do you work for, again? I want to make sure I don't forget it."

"Oh, it's Posture magazine," she said. "It says it right on the card."

"What? I can have a little fun with my dear cousin the day before my wedding, can't I? After all, my life is about to end.

28 hours until my wedding.

_**Much later on Friday, 11:30 p.m.  
><strong>__**Royal Genovian Bed**_

I didn't tell him.

I'm sick with guilt.

I tried, I swear I did. But there wasn't a good time! And I know there's never a good time to tell the love of your life something that may or may not cause them to dump you, but there really wasn't a good time. I mean, it's something to tell him one-on-one so he can break up with me in private, not something to tell him in the middle of your huge rehearsal dinner so he can break up with me in front of fifty people.

So now I really don't know what to do. A week ago my wedding seemed like years away and that I had all the time in the world to figure this out.

And now, it's only 17 ½ hours away and he still doesn't know.

Dad pulled me aside during dinner and asked if I'd told Michael yet. I said no, but that I was going to, and he gave me one of his looks. "You're running out of time, Mia," he said, all cryptically.

LIKE I DON'T' KNOW THAT, DAD!

And I'm not even going to see Michael tomorrow. You know, the whole bad luck thing about seeing the bride before the wedding.

I'm so not concerned with bad luck at this point.

_**Saturday, July 23rd, 12:30 a.m.  
><strong>__**THE DAY OF THE WEDDING  
><strong>__**Royal Genovian Bed**_

I know what I have to do.

I'm going to sneak out of the castle, walk the two miles to Michael's apartment, and tell him.

It's my only option.

I really think I might be sick.

Well… wish me luck.

16 ½ hours until my wedding (hopefully).


	8. Chapter 8

_**Later on Saturday, 2:15 a.m.  
><strong>__**THE DAY OF THE WEDDING  
><strong>__**Genovian Park**_

Okay, maybe this walk is more than two miles.

MY FEET ARE KILLING ME!

Why does Genovia have so many hills? I miss the flatness of Manhattan.

I can do this. Only another mile or so, I think.

14 hours and 45 minutes until my wedding (hopefully).

_**Still Saturday, 2:45 a.m.  
><strong>__**THE DAY OF THE WEDDING  
><strong>__**Michael's building**_

I FINALLY MADE IT! Only two hours and fifteen minutes after I began.

Well, okay, I did stop at the kitchen for some food because my teeth are finally not so sensitive anymore and I was STARVING!

And then I forgot my cell phone so I had to go all the way back to my room to get it, so I didn't really leave until, like, 1:30.

Still. I'm exhausted and I definitely need to get in better shape.

Michael's on his way down to let me in.

Oh man, I'm going to really pass out.

14 hours and 15 minutes until my wedding (hopefully).

_**More Saturday, 4:30 a.m.  
><strong>__**Michael's bedroom**_

Once upon a time, there was a girl named Mia.

She was a normal girl, just your average freshman in high school, when, one day, she found out she was a princess. Yes, the heir to the throne of a small Genovian principality (which welcomed democracy two years later). This revelation changed her life, in some good ways and in some bad ways. Still, she always appreciated her title because it was a part of her.

The most recent time that she has begun to resent her title was when she decided to get married to the love of her life, Michael Moscovitz. Her wedding was a huge state affair, with 2,000 guests, a $20 million budget, and TV cameras that promised a roughly 2 billion at home audience. Princess Mia was very worried about this, and it caused her much stress.

Because of this stress, one night, while out with her friends, she got into an argument with one of said friends and got drunk; so drunk that she does not remember the evening. During this time, Princess Mia believed to have lost some very beautiful diamond earrings given to her indirectly by her beloved's mother. She didn't tell anyone about this crisis (except for her father and bodyguard) and spent the week leading up to her wedding believing that there would, in fact, be no wedding.

Moral of the story? Always talk to your fiancé.

Why?

BECAUSE MICHAEL HAD THE EARRINGS THE ENTIRE TIME!

I am not even joking.

CAN YOU FREAKIN' BELIEVE IT?

Here's what happened:

Michael came downstairs to let me into his apartment, looking tired and very worried. I felt bad for him, because he owns and runs this amazing company AND he's about to become prince of a country so he has, like, a million things to do. And, you know, because he's marrying a total liar.

We went upstairs and were sitting in his living room and he was like, "Okay, Mia, this better be important. What the hell is going on?" Then he got this weird look on his face. "You're not having second thoughts, are you?"

I was like, "UM, OF COURSE NOT! We're totally getting married!" Then I paused and was like, "Well, if you still want to."

So Michael was all, "Why would I not want to?"

So then, after swallowing the urge to puke, I told him the story.

All of it. How after he gave me the earrings, I forgot to take them out of my bag, and then I went out with Lana, Rachelle, Lilly, and Tina, and Lilly made me so upset that I got drunk and lost the earrings somewhere in Italy, and how I was too afraid to tell him because I thought he was going to break up with me, and how I'm SURE he was going to break up with me right then because, not only did I lose the earrings, but I LIED to him about it.

When I was finished, I just sat there, breathing deeply. I felt better momentarily, because I wasn't lying anymore, but I knew the feeling was about to be CRUSHED by Michael's rejection of me.

He stared at me for a minute. Then he was all, "Mia, how did you get here?"

WHAT THE HELL KIND OF QUESTION IS THAT?

"I walked."

"Why?"

I blinked at him. "BECAUSE, MICHAEL, WE'RE GETTING MARRIED TOMORROW AND I HAD TO TELL YOU THE TRUTH! WERE YOU EVEN LISTENING?"

"I'll be right back," was all he said and he got up and went to his room.

So while I was sitting there, I was like, he's gonna do something really dramatic to symbolize that our relationship is over, like throw the moon rocks I stole from the Royal Genovian Museum in my face or something.

Instead, when he emerged a moment later, he was holding a dark blue velvet jewelry box that looked strangely familiar…

He sat down and opened it, revealing…

HIS MOM'S EARRINGS!

"OH MY GOD!" I screamed. "WHY IN THE WORLD DO YOU HAVE THESE?"

"You really don't remember?" he said, smirking at me. "I knew you were drunk the night you went out with your friends, but I didn't realize you had blacked out…"

"MICHAEL, WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?"

"You came here, did you know that?" he asked.

I nodded. "Yes, Francois told me I ditched everyone to come here."

"Do you know what you did here?"

"Well," I said, "Lana said I talked about smelling your neck…"

He chuckled and shook his head. "I mean, I think you did that, too, but that wasn't why you came here."

"Why did I?"

He held up the earrings. "To give these to me."

I stared at the earrings for, like, a minute. "What?"

"You showed up here," he said, "pretty wasted, and said to me that you were really afraid you were going to lose these earrings. You said they were some of the nicest, most meaningful jewelry you'd ever received and you didn't want to risk losing them somewhere, so you wanted me to hold on to them until the day of the wedding. Then you smelled my neck and left."

I gaped at him. "But… but Michael… WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?"

He shrugged. "I didn't realize you had no memory of it. I figured I'd just give them to your grandmother to give to you tomorrow morning."

I cannot believe that THIS WHOLE TIME that I have been KILLING MYSELF over losing these earrings, MICHAEL HAS HAD THEM THIS WHOLE TIME!

WHY DID I GET SO DRUNK THAT I LOST MY MEMORY? WHY?

"Well, then," I said, "I guess the wedding is on."

"Was it ever not?" he asked.

"Well," I said, "I definitely thought you were going to dump me for losing the earrings and then not telling you about it."

He just rolled his eyes and pulled me toward him. "Eleven years later and you still think I would break up with you over earrings? Granted, my mom wouldn't have been too happy, but I could care less about something like that."

For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was floating in the clouds.

Now I'm sitting in Michael's bed, since we, um, celebrated the fact that we are still getting married. I have to go back to the palace, but Michael doesn't want me to. He keeps saying I should stay as long as I can, which is only for like another hour. But he's in the kitchen right now making me waffles with strawberries and powdered sugar, so I guess I can stay for a little bit longer.

This is shaping up to be the best wedding ever.

12 hours until my wedding.

OFFICIAL TIMELINE  
>of<br>THE UNION BETWEEN HRH PRINCESS AMELIA MIGNONETTE GRIMALDI THERMOPOLIS RENALDO  
>and<br>MICHAEL MOSCOVITZ

_**Saturday, July 23**__**rd  
><strong>__**THE DAY OF THE WEDDING**_

5:50 a.m. – Am dropped off by Michael. Sneak into castle (already crowds of people in streets of Genovia and lots of people wandering around).

6:00 a.m. – Am roused after getting approximately five minutes of sleep by ladies-in-waiting. Am only allowed to pee before escorted to Grandmère's wing of the palace.

6:10 a.m. – Grandmère's room has been transformed into a salon. Am beginning to think this woman has not slept at all since announcing Royal Engagement.

6:15 a.m. – Ladies-in-waiting and salon assistants attempt to shower me, but diplomatically tell them I can do it myself. Still, they stand outside the shower and give me instructions.

6:35 a.m. – Am finally allowed to brush my teeth.

6:37 a.m. – Begin beautification process. Royal Genovian manicurists remove polish received during spa day with Mom and replace with French tips. Royal Genovian dermatologist exfoliates the skin on my face and proceeds to zap away blackheads. V. painful procedure.

8:00 a.m. – Wax underarms and legs. Am confused as to why I need a bikini wax since I am only wearing gowns. Grandmère says it is for the wedding night. V. traumatized.

8:30 a.m. – Royal Genovian hairstylist begins on hair. First washes my hair (ignoring my pleas that I washed it two hours ago), dries it a little, puts some cream in it, then puts me under the drier for twenty minutes. Some derivation of this process is repeated a few more times.

9:30 a.m. – Trimming of hair begins.

10:00 a.m. – Highlighting of hair begins.

12:00 p.m. – Royal Genovian styling team take lunch break. Princess Mia sits under the drier while highlights settle.

12:30 p.m. – Back to work with another hair washing (fifth of the day), complete with deep conditioning. Color has finally settled; hair is at the approved length by Grandmère.

2 p.m. – Hairstyle for wedding is finished, complete with diamond tiara securely in place. Looks amazing. Can't wait for Michael to see.

3 p.m. – Royal Genovian makeup artist finishes my makeup. Look even more amazing. REALLY can't wait for Michael to see me.

3:05 p.m. – Countdown is on. One hour until procession is to begin. Glance out the window briefly and see nothing but people crammed into the streets of Genovia. Almost throw up.

3:30 p.m. – Am ready for the wedding. Am wearing my wedding gown and look more amazing than I have ever looked before. Am sitting in my room with Mom, Dad, Mr. G, and Rocky. Mom is crying and one of the Royal Genovian makeup artists is fluttering around her and fixing her eye makeup every three minutes. Rocky is impatient and just wants to ride the horses. Dad is silent but I think I saw a tear. Procession starts in half an hour but I don't leave until nearly five o' clock.

3:45 p.m. – Mom turns on TV. Every single news station is showing footage from my wedding. Mom picks her favorite and we watch. Cameras show that the entire town of Genovia is filled with people except for the path cleared for the procession and the area around the chapel. Most of the wedding guests are already in the chapel. Spot Boris Pelkowski, Kenneth Showalter, Lana Weinberger, and Rachelle Addison all sitting together.

4:00 p.m. – First carriage departs from Royal Genovian palace. It is carrying Michael and his best man, Jeremiah Lee. God, Michael looks handsome. The people are screaming like crazy and they scream louder when Michael waves. He totally looks like a royal.

4:10 p.m. – Second carriage departs. It is carrying the Drs. Moscovitz and Lilly. All look apprehensive but wave timidly. Lilly doesn't wave, just smiles and nods. More than I could have expected from her.

4:17 p.m. – Third and fourth carriages depart, right behind each other, carrying bridesmaids and maid-of-honor. Tina looks lovely and regal next to all the royalty. She waves like a pro. First carriage arrives at the chapel. Michael steps out and shakes hands with some of the guests outside. He waits for his family to arrive.

4:20 p.m. – Mom, Mr. G, and Rocky are summoned to leave my room. Mom is sobbing now and hugs me tightly. I say, "Uh, hello, Mom, we're going to the same place. I'll see you in, like, a half hour." She says, "You don't understand. The next time I talk to you, you'll be a married woman." I tell her she should be happy that Michael is finally making an honest woman out of me. Mom laughs, but Dad is not as amused.

4:24 p.m. – Fifth carriage departs, with Grandmère and her sister, Tante Jean Marie. Grandmère waves as if she's been doing this for 50 years. Oh wait… she has. Carriage with Michael's family arrives at Royal Genovian Chapel. They all hug. Finally he enters the chapel.

4:30 p.m. – Sixth carriage departs, with Mom, Mr. G, and Rocky. Mom and Mr. G wave nervously; Rocky presses his face up against the glass in awe at all the people yelling and holding up signs.

4:35 p.m. – I am told it is ready for me to leave. The carriage is hidden from the public view, so they are not able to see me go inside of it, but there are helicopters with TV cameras filming, so the billions of people watching get a peek at my dress. One of the designer's assistants helps me inside, and Dad enters after me. Designer's assistant sits up front with driver.

4:43 p.m. – We depart. Don't know if it's because the cheers sound louder in person than on camera, but it is pretty freaking loud. Wave as I have been trained to do and everyone is going crazy. See signs that say, "Princess Mia is the most beautiful bride ever!" Almost start crying, but a princess never gets emotional in public.

4:58 p.m. – Arrive at Royal Genovian Chapel. Waiting at the doors are Grandmère, Mom, Mr. G, Rocky, and the bridesmaids. Tina is waiting right at where the carriage stops. Dad gets out first, then me. He helps me out while Tina and the designer's assistant deal with the dress. I wave to the population as Tina holds the train. I then kiss Grandmère once on each cheek and hug Mom, Mr. G, and Rocky. The four of them enter the chapel followed by the bridesmaids. At the sight of bridesmaids, wedding guests begin to quiet down.

5:01 p.m. – Wedding march song begins. Cannot for the life of me remember what it is. Some French song. Dad and I began to walk down the aisle with Tina holding my dress behind me. Walk lasts two minutes. Michael is not allowed to look back at me. He is supposed to be the last person to see me.

5:03 p.m. – Reach altar. Michael sees me and tells me I look beautiful. He shakes my dad's hand and the ceremony begins.

5:15 p.m. – Mid-ceremony. V. boring.

5:31 p.m. – Feet really hurt from standing still for so long.

5:33 p.m. – IS MICHAEL SLEEPING?

5:34 p.m. – Movement from Michael, not sleeping like I'd feared.

5:42 p.m. – Say vows.

5:43 p.m. – Michael messes up my name due to nervousness and instead says, "Amelia Grimaldi Mignonette Thermopolis Renaldo." Am thrilled to pieces due to the adorable-ness of it, but resist glancing back at Grandmère, as she is likely having a stroke.

5:44 p.m. – No commotion behind me; stroke must have not happened.

5:57 p.m. – AM OFFICIALLY MRS. MICHAEL MOSCOVITZ.

5:58 p.m. – Okay, fine, my name is still the same, but he is now HRH Prince Michael Renaldo.

6:00 p.m. – Michael and I walk back down the aisle and wave at all the adoring fans outside the chapel that are going insane. Our families have followed us.

6:05 p.m. – Michael and I get back in a carriage and it takes us through the streets of Genovia back to the castle. My cheeks hurt from smiling and I'm afraid my hand is going to cramp. The rest of the wedding party follows.

6:20 p.m. – Arrive back at the palace. We are ushered inside. Immediately Michael kisses me and calls me his wife for the first time. Might die of happiness.

6:23 p.m. – Ushered into the Royal Genovian press room, where three official photographers are waiting to take our portraits.

6:24 p.m. – Take portraits.

6:45 p.m. – Rest of wedding party has arrived (this includes Mom, Dad, Grandmère, Tante Jean Marie, Mr. G, Rocky, the Drs. Moscovitz, Lilly, Tina, Jeremiah, and my princess bridesmaids). Take many more portraits.

7:10 p.m. – Go upstairs to the top floor of the palace. Genovian populace is waiting for us to present ourselves.

7:13 p.m. – Stand out on balcony with wedding party and wave. Royal Genovian Air Force planes fly above us. Everyone cheers.

7:30 p.m. – Go back inside.

7:45 p.m. – The 500 out of 2,000 wedding guests that were invited to the reception have arrived at the Royal Genovian Ballroom on the bottom floor of the palace.

8:00 p.m. – Reception begins.


	9. Chapter 9

**AN:** So this is the last chapter of the story! I hope you've all enjoyed it; I know I've enjoyed receiving your reviews!

* * *

><p><em><strong>Sunday, July 24th, 9 a.m.<br>**__**Royal Genovian Bed – WITH MICHAEL!**_

I've never been the kind of girl to daydream about my wedding or anything. In fact, until I was fourteen, I didn't even think I would get married. I mean, I was kind of a physical anomaly until I reached my twenties or so. Weird, triangular shaped hair, no boobs, a hundred feet tall, and ski slope feet. What girl with that physical description would think she'd ever get married?

Anyway, then I started dating my one true love, but I wouldn't even let myself THINK about my wedding, because, being a royal and all, I had no idea what it would be like.

Still… I think if I'd imagined my wedding when I was younger, it would've resembled the wedding I had last night.

Sure, I could've done without the whole televised ceremony thing, the horse-drawn carriage procession, the 2,000 guests, and the million people that crammed into the streets of Genovia to watch. But that's what comes with the princess territory, I guess.

I can't decide which part of the reception was better: Mom getting so trashed due to being in the same vicinity as her parents and sister and brother-in-law for so long that she spilled red wine down her light green dress, and in her panic to get it off her, accidently flung some on Grandmère and her pale blue dress (THANKFULLY Grandmère had another dress to change into); or Boris Pelkowski looking totally hot and staring doe-eyed after Tina, who was flirting like crazy with Michael's best man, Jeremiah Lee, and, after listening to Boris explain to me in a fifteen minute speech how breaking up with Tina was the worst mistake of his life, telling him to go tell HER that and not me, and having Grandmère catch them making out in the bathroom later in the night; or when Michael threw my garter in the air and somehow Rocky caught it; or how Claire was so angry at me for not telling her who my wedding dress designer was before the whole world found out, but then she took it back immediately once she spotted Hank and begged me to introduce them.

No, I think one of the best moments was when Lilly came up to me and said that she was sorry for making such a big deal about the maid-of-honor fiasco and that she totally understood why I didn't ask her (she followed this up with a criticism on "could the wedding procession have been any longer? God") and that she is very happy that we are officially sisters. I almost started crying for, like, the zillionth time that day.

I couldn't keep the tears at bay for that long, though, because moments later, Lilly and Kenneth Showalter stood up at their table and announced to everyone that they were expecting a baby.

THEN I started bawling.

I'M GOING TO BE AN AUNT! AUNT MIA AND UNCLE MICHAEL! We are going to be the best aunt and uncle EVER!

Well, we'll be the baby's only aunt and uncle, but whatever.

Lilly's mom, though, was like, "Uh, are you guys getting married?"

And Lilly was like, "Duh, no. Kenneth and I have no intention to enter into the corrupt institution known as marriage – not when overpaid, adulterous government officials have the nerve to claim that they are protecting the so-called purity of marriage by banning gay and lesbian couples to enter into the same union awarded to straight couples –"

So then Michael and I left their table, not needing to be a part of THAT conversation.

Then my dad made a nice speech about growing up royal and grace in the public eye and blah blah blah… I wish he could've had a more funny speech than a serious one, like Prince Harry at Prince William's wedding, but he made my mom cry so I guess it was still good (except she was drunk so maybe she was crying for a different reason).

He did make an awkward comment about liking Michael the most out of all my boyfriends, which was weird for three reasons: number one, I only had THREE, but he made it sound like I had millions (sorry, Dad, didn't take after you and Mom); number two, WHO BRINGS UP EX-BOYFRIENDS AT A WEDDING?; number three, Kenneth was totally there and even though I knew that my dad was mostly talking about J.P., I noticed Kenneth's ears turned all red and Lilly scowled at me.

But Kenneth and I dated for, like, a month, so my dad probably forgot. Or he didn't realize Kenneth was even there.

Then Grandmère stood up and announced proudly that the rough numbers were in, and that my wedding ceremony had drawn in 2.5 BILLION VIEWERS in 185 COUNTRIES, meaning it is the most watched public telecast IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD!

I almost passed out, but unfortunately I stayed conscious to hear Grandmère say to Queen Elizabeth, "I do hope you understand." William and Catherine looked a little annoyed.

I will tell you about the least favorite part of my wedding: when Grandmère pulled Michael and me aside and told us that she expects me to either "have child or be with child" in the next twelve months. She then said that the best time to conceive would be on our honeymoon, since once we get back, we're going to be super busy (me with my old royal duties, Michael with his new ones), and Michael will still be running Pavlov Surgical, and I'll be going to Vietnam in a couple months to visit some of the orphanages there (and bringing with me a truckload of tissues because I am going to be CRYING LIKE A BABY) and then a couple months after that Michael and I have our first royal visit to Japan.

Basically Grandmère told us that we're going to be too busy for sex.

Cool. Great.

IT WAS BAD ENOUGH TALKING TO MY OWN MOTHER ABOUT SEX, AND NOW I HAVE TO TALK ABOUT IT TO MY GRANDMOTHER?

Except with Grandmère, her only interest is for me to produce an heir. Whatever, Grandmère, you always talk about how me getting older is making YOU feel older, so wouldn't having a great-grandchild make you feel REALLY OLD?

Michael, though, totally handled the situation like a pro. He's known about Grandmère's craziness for eleven years, but now as a prince he has to deal with it firsthand, and he graciously said, "Thank you, Clarisse, for your concern. Mia and I very well know how important this is to you and we have spoken at length on starting a family in the near future."

Whoa. I totally could never have said that. Michael just might be the best thing to ever happen to Genovia.

He's totally right, though. Michael's always said he wants a baby before thirty and he's twenty-eight now, so that gives us another year and a half to have a baby, which fits in perfectly with Grandmère's plan. Plus, if I'm anything like my mom, who gets pregnant like THAT, we should have no problem.

I'm not even going to let myself freak out about being a mom right now because I'm too over the moon about finally being married to the man of my dreams (even though, really, who in their right mind thinks I can be a good mother? What if I leave the baby with Michael, and, oh, I don't know, FORGET?).

And I'm going to get excited about leaving tomorrow morning for our honeymoon to ICELAND! That's right, I finally get to go to Iceland! I've only wanted to go there since I was fourteen. I'm totally excited. A week and a half of just Michael and me. No Grandmère, no Dad, no Lilly, no Tina, no Mom. Just Michael.

And Francois, of course, because he goes everywhere with me. But he's staying next door to us and SWEARS to me that he'll only go with us if we leave our condo and that he won't hang out with us in the condo, and that if we don't come out all day, he'll only call to check on us ONCE.

I kind of think that Lars talked to Francois, because I totally told Lars about Francois snitching on me to Dad. Hopefully Lars told Francois about how important princess-bodyguard confidentiality is.

And so Francois doesn't get bored, another bodyguard named Jacques is going, too. But I think he's mostly also going because he's Michael's new bodyguard. Michael won't have a bodyguard like I do, though – Jacques will basically just drive Michael everywhere. I guess that's because if Michael dies, it won't be so tragic in the eyes of the Royal Genovian Family, because I can always remarry and produce offspring, but if I die, the Royal Genovian Family is toast.

They should totally rethink this, because if Michael dies, I will live alone FOREVER, but whatever.

Oh, right, I forgot to write about my wedding dresses! Now that the wedding is over, Grandmère can't kill me for writing it down.

The first wedding dress had –

Michael just woke up! He just said, "Good morning, my beautiful wife."

I literally have never been so happy in my entire life.

He wants me to stop writing and to pay attention to him, since I barely have during this whole wedding process.

And you know what… I think I will.

He is my husband, after all.

EEK!


End file.
